


How to Be a Zombie: A Guide By Eren Jaeger, Newly Reanimated Corpse

by pickalily



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Bisexual Eren Yeager, Blood and Gore, Crack, Dark Comedy, Eren and Jean have two brain cells between them, Is Eren hungry or horny or both?, M/M, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past EreHisu, Reiner and Bertholdt are disgustingly in love, Small Towns, Zombie Eren Yeager, and Reiner won't let you forget it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickalily/pseuds/pickalily
Summary: Eren Jaeger is a newly turned zombie, but that doesn't mean that he's a monster. He wants nothing more than to return to the life he once had. The one he had before he, well, died, but people in his small town don't (understandably) take too kindly to zombies that wander in. He enlists the help of his childhood friend Jean Kirstein to help him blend in.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	1. How to Disguise Yourself As a Human Being

**Author's Note:**

> Happy almost-Halloween, everyone! Out of all the Halloween-y fics I've written this year, this one is probably my favorite because it's so silly. It's actually inspired by this kdrama that aired this month called [Zombie Detective](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyTSICDokjE) ^^ I haven't actually watched it, but I thought the premise was hilarious so I worked a bit of it to make this AU. EreJean is a fun pairing that I'm upset I haven't written more of it! 
> 
> This whole time I was actually thinking of T-ara's "[Lovey-Dovey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJ0djllyqwY)" as I was writing, so you guys can check it out if you're curious!

_I’m alive_. 

It doesn’t occur to Eren, after digging through six feet of dirt, that this isn’t entirely true. While it’s true that he’s alive, it would be more accurate to say that he’s alive _again_. Then again, it doesn’t quite hit him - as he breathes in his first breath of fresh air in what feels like months - that he had died in the first place. 

To be fair, this isn’t how Eren had pictured himself going out: knocked out in the middle of a midnight stroll through the forested hills that occupied the south of the small town he'd grown up in only to be choked to death, his strangled breaths unheard by the slumbering town. He had pictured himself going out with a bang, something like a gunshot and not snuffed out so easily like a candle. Preferably, it would be in his thirties (forties, if he were lucky), giving him enough time to make a noticeable mark on the world. But, of course, the universe is unpredictable, unjust, and, above all, a huge bitch. 

All Eren can think when he first crawls out of the earth is that the sunlight is so bright it’s practically blinding. He holds out a hand to shade his eyes only to realize something strange - his hand is frighteningly thin and pale and veiny. His tanned skin is now a sickening shade of gray and Eren can easily see the veins of purple and blue running underneath the thin layer of skin. He looks down at himself - his torn up clothing covered in dirt, his bare feet the same color as the rest of his sickly skin, and the dry brittle hair hanging from his head. Dried blood stains his clothing, the only bit of color on him. He realizes then, sitting next to the six-foot hole that was meant to be his grave, that he hadn’t just been attacked that night. He had been killed. Murdered. He was _dead_. And now he’s alive again. 

Nobody tells you how to deal with being a zombie. They tell you how to deal _with_ a zombie but never what to do if you become one yourself. It turns out that humans are far more equipped to handle zombies than post-apocalyptic media would have you think. You could probably even make it if you were a senior citizen as long as you were able to raise your cane above your head. It’s only occasionally that a person gets eaten by a zombie now because fighting one off isn’t actually all that difficult. Eren knows the basics: aim for the head because the brain is what controls a zombie and their skulls are as soft as eggshells, zombies are slow creatures but you should still think fast, and never ever let a zombie bite you. 

The last rule has Eren salivating as he realizes that it’s been a while since he’s eaten anything. He lays down on the ground, hand on his stomach as it rumbles. He tries to will away the cannibalistic urge that’s eating away at him by thinking of anything except his desire to feast on human flesh. He wants to be hungry for human food: miso ramen with its rich, salty broth and succulent slices of char siu pork with sweet kernels of corn and a soft-boiled egg on the side, okonomiyaki batter sizzling on the grill and topped with shrimp and green onions, or even crispy karaage with a squeeze of lemon and dipped in mayo. But Eren doesn’t crave any of it. His stomach growls in dissatisfaction, banishing his thoughts of food and replacing them with more horrifying alternatives: human skin breaking between his teeth and salty on his tongue, soft tissue melting in his mouth, taut muscle chewed up and swallowed hungrily. Eren craves sustenance in a way he never has before. 

A bush rustles nearby and his eyes flicker over to it. Eren doesn’t move; staying still as a zombie is much easier than it ever was when he was a human. There is nothing but the wind sweeping up leaves in little gusts for a moment, and then, Eren sees it: a rabbit timidly making its way out of the bush. Its wide brown eyes stare at Eren, ready to scurry away at any sign of movement. The rabbit’s little pink nose twitches as it hops ever closer to the reanimated corpse that is Eren Jaeger. It’s such a tiny thing. This might even be its first time experiencing the fall - crisp autumn leaves underfoot, chilly morning air as the temperature cooled from summer to fall, and the sun setting earlier and earlier each night. It hasn’t lived nearly as long as it should, and yet Eren can’t help but salivate as the rabbit approaches him, imagining how satisfying it would be to plunge his teeth in its tender flesh. 

The rabbit stops where Eren sits, leaning down to sniff at the hole in the knee of his jeans. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. 

Before he can even think, Eren grabs the animal in his grimy hands and bites into its neck. The sound of teeth digging into raw flesh is disgusting, but Eren can’t find it in himself to stop, taking bite after bite, moaning hungrily even as the rabbit struggles in his grasp and blood dribbles down his chin and onto his hand. Eren takes a bite from the rabbit's neck, blood spurting as his teeth tear at a vein, and feels the creature struggle uselessly until finally growing limp in his hands. He eats the rest of it - fur and flesh and blood and all - and feels it fill him like no meal ever has before. He doesn’t know how he had ever eaten before. In his previous life, he couldn’t imagine anything better than well-cooked meat: grilled, fried, roasted. He loved it marinated, covered in spices so that the different flavors could blend together and bring out the umami of the meat. Now, he realizes those extra flavors only masked the true taste of meat - gamey with a slightly sweet aftertaste - and cooking it destroyed its integrity. There’s something invigorating about eating raw meat, chewing through tender tissue and tough tendons, breaking flesh down, grinding it between his teeth. He’s had a taste and now he can’t imagine it any other way. 

The rabbit was a small meal, one that did well to satisfy his hunger for the time being but fed his desire to search for more flesh. Rabbits are lean - small creatures with soft tissue, its only tough muscle in its legs. Eren can only imagine what other animals would taste like. He wants the taste of deer on his tongue, its meat smooth and firm as he bites down into its flesh, its rich and earthy flavor melting in his mouth. Raw pork would be meatier, fattier, sweet and savory at the same time. Chicken should be lighter, not nearly as rich or pork or venison, but nice and juicy as Eren tears his teeth into it. Beef should be tender, thick and meaty and earthy all at once. And human flesh … 

Eren licks his lips at the thought of sinking his teeth into a human’s shoulder but quickly shakes his head as if that would be enough to banish the horrific thought. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the smear of blood across his skin until he falls on his back with a heavy _thud_. Eren wants to feel disgusted at himself, to be ashamed at the monster he’s become, but his stomach grumbles. Even as he clutches at it in a helpless attempt to muffle the sounds of his hunger, all Eren can think about is how terribly dissatisfying his meal was and how he longs for something more. 

A moan escapes his lip, frustrated and lonely, and Eren wonders how he’ll ever be able to survive his second life. 

Swapping from a traditional zombie diet to a vegetarian alternative, Eren discovers, is actually very easy if you’re able to distance yourself from humans. Well, it’s not really vegetarian if he’s still eating meat, but at least it’s not human meat. That has to count for something, right?

Eren had never really appreciated living in a small town until now. When he was in college, he had jumped at the chance to attend a college in the big city. It was fun; he got to have class with hundreds of kids instead of the normal ten or twenty and met a lot of new people. There were clubs and the chance to have an actual nightlife instead of just having a drink at the convenience store down the block because that was the only place that was open at night. Eren even enjoyed sharing an apartment with four other guys even if they could all barely pay rent and there was never a single clean spot in their shared space. Moving back home was a disappointment, but there really wasn't much else he could do when renting a place in the city was ridiculously expensive and, despite receiving his bachelor’s degree, he couldn’t land a decent job. His hometown was so quiet and dull in comparison, and some houses on the outskirts are so far apart that it takes fifteen minutes to get to the next one, but those are things that are actually very ideal for zombie life. 

In all of his time as a zombie, Eren has only encountered a handful of humans and only from a distance. He doesn’t dare go near the town. He doesn’t think he’s ready for it, at least not yet. He wants to go through more training - learn how to keep space between him and his desires while learning how to satisfy himself with the meals he can get. Camping in the hills at the side of town is helpful, Eren finds. Having grown up here, he knows exactly what places to keep clear of so that he doesn’t run into any innocent townspeople or tourists that have come for a leisurely stroll on the trail. Being at the edge of town also means that Eren’s close to the farm at the foot of the hills, which means he always has a source of alternative meat to feed on when he feels peckish. 

He used to hate the old farm. Even if he was on the other side of town, Eren swore he could still smell the stench of manure even if his mother told him it was ridiculous. Sometimes he would even hear the roosters crowing at the crack of dawn, which didn’t even make sense because Eren didn’t live anywhere near the farm or at least he lived far enough away that he _shouldn’t_ hear roosters shrieking at an ungodly hour every single morning. The other townspeople adored the farm because it was a source of locally-sourced meat that they could trust, nothing like the imported beef and poultry from outside the town. Eren, not understanding the ethics in the meat industry, didn’t care for any of that at the time. He just knew that everything about the farm - its stench, its noises, its entire _presence_ \- annoyed him, so he once suggested that he and his friends go cow-tipping. All but one of his friends agreed and so they all sneaked out only to be stopped when they reached Armin, the only person who didn’t want to go. 

“You know you can’t actually go cow-tipping, right?” Armin yawned sleepily when they had snuck into his room to drag him out with them. 

“Why? ‘Cause it’s ‘bad’?” Eren asked, putting the word in quotes to show that he didn’t care and rolling his eyes for good measure. 

“Well, yeah. Not to mention we’d be trespassing,” Armin explained. “And, like, cows don’t even sleep standing up. Horses do that.” 

“Oh.” 

Needless to say, Eren’s plans for that night were thwarted and he had another reason to hate the farm. Now, Eren can’t imagine what he would do without it. 

Eren doesn’t eat at the farm, at least not at first. He keeps an eye on it, noting when the farmer’s truck is in, when it tends to disappear, and when the lights are on at night. When he dares to sneak into the farm, he takes a mental count of all the animals - cows, goats, pigs, chickens. Eren is certain he can get away with eating the chickens as long as he does so sparingly. Maybe he could eat one a day, but the dwindling population of poultry would be noticeable within a number of days. He takes a mental note of the days where the farmer lets the animals out to graze, especially the cows and the goats. The pigs, Eren thinks, are probably the easiest for him to eat. They’re far from hairless, but they’re not as annoyingly furry as cows and goats. Of course, they’re not nearly as tasty, too fatty and rich to Eren’s taste. He likes things with more muscle, something with a bit of chew to it, but disposing of bones is a hassle too. In the meantime, Eren feeds on rabbits and birds he manages to catch in the forest, all the while dreaming of something more satisfying to fill his belly. 

The first time Eren sneaks in to eat a chicken, the sight of the poultry in front of him is so horribly enticing that he devours it on sight. He doesn’t even think, just lunges for the nearest feathered fowl and bites into it even as it flaps its wings and tries to scratch at his face with its claws. One good bite to the neck - punctuated with a large _crunch!_ \- and the chicken was lifeless in his hands and he ate away, occasionally spitting out the feathers between bites, while the other chickens clucked noisily around him. It’s only when he’s finished off his meal, polished the meat off its bones, that Eren realizes the ruckus he’s made and, upon hearing footsteps approaching, flees from the scene and disappears into the forest. 

It’s the first time Eren makes that mistake, but it’s far from the last. Although he only makes the trips to the farmhouse only once or twice a week at most, he has too many close calls to count. There are traps the farmer begins to set up to catch the culprit. They’re harmless at first, just traps that set off an alarm when tripped to alert the farmer, but they grow more and more violent - little mouse traps that snap at Eren’s toes, vicious bear traps with jagged metal teeth, steel conibear traps meant to break his body in two - and yet Eren manages to evade every one. Being a zombie makes him slower, but it also makes him more careful, more perceptive of the things around him. Human Eren wouldn’t have stood a chance. 

He still dreams of being able to return to society and live like a normal human being, but it has a slim chance of becoming reality, Eren thinks mournfully as he chomps down on the leg of a goat he had mercilessly bitten into just moments ago. Sure, he hasn’t eaten a human since he had awakened from the dead, but who’s to say that he couldn’t if given the chance? His craving to bite into human flesh, to feel it melt on his tongue, to have it fill his belly, is still one that burns in the pit of his stomach every night, but he’s learned to ignore it so far. As much as he wanted to chase after every stray hiker that had happened to wander into his line of sight, Eren has never allowed the desire to consume him, instead running away and biting into the meat of his arm because he wanted something - anything - to sink his teeth into and the taste of his rotting flesh helped to banish any want for human meat. 

A sudden _thump_ pulls Eren away from his train of thought and he realizes with horror that the farmer is pulling open the barn door. There’s no way to escape, so he has no choice but to hide. 

Cursing under his breath, Eren discards the rest of the goat, leaving its carcass behind as he scuttled to the pile of hay in the corner of the barn. It smelled of dried grass and the stench of the farm. He hoped it would be enough to mask his own putrid scent. 

The _clomp, clomp, clomp_ of the farmer’s boots against the wooden floor grow closer as he comes to inspect the abandoned carcass of his half-eaten goat. Eren watches through the hay as the farmer kneels, pulling what’s left of the goat into his lap and mourns the loss of the poor creature. 

“Those goddamn wolves,” the farmer moans, his voice filled with grief. It’s not unlike the sound of an animal as it cries for mercy. It’s the same sad tone, desperate and confused. The thought of the farmer, his throat in Eren’s hands as he holds the farmer beneath him and bites into the man’s face, with a lonely cry of anguish escaping his lips as he breathes his last makes Eren salivate. 

“Pull yourself together, Jaeger,” Eren mutters under his breath, but his teeth continue to grind as he imagines the taste of the farmer on his tongue - a good mix of tender tissue and tough muscle, like beef but so much _better_. A hungry growl escapes his mouth before he can stop himself and he hastily shoves a fist inside his mouth, biting down hard until he tastes old rusted metal on his tongue and his tears sting at the taste of his bitter flesh. 

The sound is just enough to catch the farmer’s attention and the man looks up to where Eren is. He stares at the corner where Eren is hiding, eyes unknowingly gazing over the hay bale that conceals the zombie. He continues to look but, finding no other disturbance, returns to look mournfully at the goat in his lap. 

“We’re going to have to lock this place up better if they’re eating the damn goats too,” the farmer says with a shake of his head. With a sigh, he stands up, hoisting the goat’s remains over his shoulder and walking out of the barn. 

Eren breathes more easily when the door of the barn shuts with a hard _thud_. He crawls out of the hay bale, brushing off the bits of dried grass that stick to his clothing and hair. A little wistfully, his eyes rest on the bloody stain in the stall that had once housed the goat. He had gotten a good taste of it, but he was unable to finish his meal. Hunting for a rabbit in the dark to satisfy his hunger is going to be a pain in the ass. Still, it’s not all a loss. 

In all his time as a zombie, Eren has never been in such close proximity with a human, had never stayed that still in front of a human and not given in to his urge to run away lest he does the unfathomable. He had never trusted himself to not give in to his nature, but tonight is proof that he’s not a monster, at least not completely. At the very least, he’s capable of staying close to a human without eating them. 

Eren rubs at his mouth, wiping at the blood leftover from his last meal. He’s starting to think that reintegrating himself into society isn’t completely impossible but if he’s going to do this, he’s going to need a little help. 

* * *

After careful deliberation, Eren realizes that there are really only a handful of people that are equipped to deal with his reanimation. His first thought was to return home because any mother would be overjoyed to discover that her son who had gone missing has suddenly reappeared, but the same cannot be said for a mother who discovers that her missing son has returned as a zombie. If anything, the shock of finding out her son is still alive - alive again, actually - might kill his mother, and that’s something that Eren wants to avoid. 

There are plenty of people in town who knew who Eren was when he was alive, but not very many people that Eren would consider close enough to turn to even if he were in dire need of help. He’s never been the most popular guy in town and he doubts showing up as a zombie will win over any hearts. Out of his friends, he’s probably closest to Armin, who he’s known since they were in kindergarten. Going to Armin for help wouldn’t actually be a bad idea. He’s hands down the most intelligent person Eren has ever met and the town pride for attending Sina University, one of the most difficult universities to be admitted to. He’s also the most loyal, surprising everyone except Eren when he eventually returned to their hometown to work as a civil service worker because he wanted to help improve their town. At first glance, Armin would be the most obvious choice to seek help from, but there’s also a very big issue with Armin: he’d probably faint at the sight of his best friend as a zombie and, well, Eren’s not sure he’d be able to handle himself if an unconscious body dropped in front of him just waiting to be feasted on. 

He goes down the rest of his list: Annie would be more equipped to handle a zombie. There’s no doubt that she’d easily kick Eren’s ass whether or not he was a zombie, but that in itself was an issue too. She’s the type of person to kick ass and ask questions later, and he doesn’t think he’d get too far if she smashed his head to pieces. Eren thinks he’d be able to negotiate with Reiner better, but he’s not sure his friend would be able to help him. Reiner would probably laugh his ass off after finding out Eren had somehow been turned into a zombie and, frankly, Eren isn’t in the mood to deal with that. Thus, after a month of careful planning, Eren finds himself at the front of Jean’s door praying that his friend still lives in this sorry excuse of an apartment. 

He reaches out and knocks on the door with a tentative rap of his knuckles, stepping back and swallowing nervously as he listens to the heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. Keeping his head down, he pulls his hood closer over his face, hoping to shield himself from any curious eyes that might notice him visiting Jean at four in the morning. 

“Who the fuck-?” Jean mumbles as he pulls open the door. A bat dangles from his hand, but he just scowls when he looks at Eren in the face. “Even if you aren’t a goddamn zombie, I _will_ bash your head in.” He starts to lift the bat but Eren hurriedly lifts his hands to shield his face. 

“Wait, Jean!” Eren says. His voice is a lot more hoarse than it used to be. He doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t used it in god knows how long or if it’s because zombies don’t have the same vocal cords as humans. He clears his throat. “It’s me. It’s Eren.” 

“Eren?” Jean lowers his bat as he squints and takes a good look at Eren in his tattered hoodie, scraggly hair covering most of his face. He relaxes and then makes room for Eren to squeeze by. “Jesus, you look like hell.” 

Jean’s probably right, but it doesn’t mean Eren likes hearing it. It’s not as if Jean looks any better in his rumpled Yoda pajamas and bedhead. 

“Were you going to hit me over the head with that?” Eren asks, still eyeing the bat warily. 

“Yeah, I mean, zombies and everything,” Jean says with a shrug. He shuts the door behind Eren and gestures for him to take a seat at the dining table. The brunette takes a seat himself and yawns, not even bothering to cover his mouth. “But what about you? Nobody’s seen you in over, what, a year? Your mom cried about you the entire time, calling up everyone she knew every night just to see if anyone had seen or heard from you. Everyone thought you died.” 

“Oh, well …,” Eren says sitting there awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, if he should put them on the table or fold them or what. They end up in his lap so he can stare at them and avoid making eye contact with Jean. “They wouldn’t be wrong. Er, at least not exactly.” 

Jean freezes and then his eyes widen, fully awake now. Slowly, he leans across the table and reaches out until his hand is on the hood of Eren’s sweatshirt. They stay there like that, staring at each other while Jean’s hand rests on Eren’s hood until Jean finally pulls it back and reveals Eren’s true appearance. 

“Fucking _hell_ , Eren,” Jean says exasperatedly, burying his face in his hands. 

It’s not how Eren had imagined telling Jean, but it’s not like people made pamphlets for this stuff.

“It’s not like I planned this!” Eren whines, slumping down in his chair and pulling the hoodie over his head again. It’s kind of embarrassing to come out as a zombie. “I just … woke up one day like this.” 

“And you just decided to walk up to my door and let me know then? And then what? Eat me?” Jean hisses. 

Although Eren is grateful that Jean is keeping his voice down, he wishes his friend would stop rubbing his face in exasperation. He finds it so … distracting the way Jean rubs his rosy red cheeks, soft and squishy under his palms. If Eren could just take a bite out of them …

He shakes his head violently. “Stop!” Eren says more to himself than to Jean. He startles himself with his own voice, so he proceeds more calmly, his voice lowered. “I mean … no, that’s not what I’m here for. I’m kind of like a vegetarian anyway.”

“Oh, so if I plop a salad down in front of you you'll be happy eating that instead?” Jean sits back with a snort, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps flex, muscles bulging. Eren doesn’t remember if Jean was ever that toned before, but turning into a zombie has made him a lot more perceptive to these types of things. 

Eren sucks his cheeks in to keep from drooling. “No, I said _kind of_ like a vegetarian. I still eat meat just not, you know, human meat.” It’s supposed to be a good thing, but he still winces as he says it. Not eating humans isn’t really an accomplishment. 

“Good for you,” Jean says dryly. He raises an eyebrow. “So what are you here for? Don’t tell me you want me to … to mercy kill you.” They’ve never been the best of friends but Jean still shudders at the thought of having to do such a thing. 

“No, no, nothing like that!” Eren says hastily. He wonders why those have to be his only options: killing people or being killed himself. Under his breath, he mumbles, “If I wanted someone to kill me, I probably would have asked Annie.” 

“Yeah, she probably would have done it without batting an eyelash. Maybe even without you having to ask,” Jean says and chuckles in spite of the situation. The sound of his laugh makes the atmosphere less tense and Eren relaxes in his chair. Across from him, Jean looks at him with an expression of curiosity rather than one of suspicion. “So if you’re not here to eat me and you don’t want me to kill you, then what are you here for, Jaeger?” 

Eren purses his lips and looks at Jean, wondering exactly how close they are. He would never put him at the top of his friend list although there have been occasions where Jean has been the first name on his hit list. They’ve gone through far too many fights over everything and nothing over the course of their friendship - over copying homework back in middle and high school, over whether or not the other owed them money, over who accidentally left Armin behind, and things that are too trivial to remember now. Asking to disguise your zombie friend as a normal human being is probably the ultimate test of friendship. 

“I want you to help me.” 

Jean sighs but, Eren notes, it’s not a rejection. He gets up from the table and runs his hand through his hair. “It’s way too early for this. I need coffee.” He opens a cupboard and pulls out a pack of instant coffee. Pausing, he looks over at Eren. “Do zombies drink coffee?” 

Eren was never a fan of coffee even when he was alive. Now, the idea of drinking something so bitter makes him want to gag even more. Still, Eren shrugs. “Sure.” 

* * *

After a conversation over some (very disgusting coffee), Eren and Jean have agreed to a couple of things. 

First is that, while they shouldn’t openly disclose the fact that Eren is a zombie, they should most definitely let a few people in the know because there’s only so much Eren and Jean can do on their own. Eren can’t have his mother knowing. It would probably break her poor heart to know. But they should at least let Armin know. Out of their friend group, he’s undeniable the smartest one. They’d have to break the news to him in a way that doesn’t frighten him, but Eren thinks that it’ll be manageable. They were debating on whether or not they should let Annie know - Jean was heavily against it but Eren was all for it - and agreed to let her know after consulting Armin for his opinion. They didn’t even want to think about Reiner and Bertholdt right now. 

Second is that Eren can no longer feed on wild animals, but Jean will provide him with a supply of raw meat. The idea of eating meat that’s gone through some processing isn’t ideal, but Eren will take what he can get. At least Jean promised to get him some pig blood to douse the meat in too or else it would be even less appealing. 

(“How do you even eat with those teeth of yours?” Jean asks, trying to peer into Eren’s mouth as the zombie scowls at him. “I mean, you have incisors and stuff, but your molars aren’t really ideal for tearing up food.” 

“Oh, well, it kind of just … gets everywhere,” Eren admits unhappily. 

“Disgusting.”) 

Third is that Eren has to have a makeover. 

“I can’t believe you still have that shitty job at the hair salon,” Eren mutters, referencing the hair salon in the center of town where everyone gets their hair cut. He stopped going there in middle school because he was tired of only having to choose between a buzz cut and a bowl cut, the only hairstyles that were offered to boys below the age of fifteen. 

“Yeah, well, be glad because you’re in desperate need of a haircut,” Jean replies. He pulls a sheet over Eren’s shoulders, holding it in back with a safety pin. He threads his fingers through Eren’s limp hair and frowns. “You can’t make a prolific career as a makeup artist here unless you’re super passionate about high school girls going to prom or brides and their bridesmaids coming in for the occasional wedding. At least cosmetology school covered how to hold scissors.” 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles, suddenly feeling guilty. He’s felt unhappy and unfulfilled living in this small town, but he’s never really thought about how his friends have felt. Armin and Annie seemed more than content and Reiner enjoyed having his family nearby. Jean would complain every once in a while, but he never seemed too serious about it until now. He must feel as if his potential is wasted after getting a degree in cosmetology only to spend his days cutting hair for his neighbors down the street. 

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing. It’s really not that big of a deal just working here.” Jean takes out his water bottle and spritzes Eren’s hair before running a brush through it. He takes out a pair of clippers, opening and closing them with a few clicks as he approaches Eren. “Do you mind how much I hack off? It’s been a while since you had it cut short and it probably wouldn’t look as … greasy.” 

“Hack away.” 

Eren’s hair flutters to the floor with a few quick _snips_ , the only sound that fills the room. 

“But you’re not like the other zombies,” Jean observes. After snipping most of Eren’s hair off, he trades his scissors for electric clippers that buzz to life with a monotone _whir_. 

“I hope you’re not going to ask me about it,” Eren murmurs, eyes closed as he feels the clippers shear off the hair at the back of his neck. The feeling of Jean’s finger running through his hair, fingers brushing against the newly stubbled hair, feels so pleasant that Eren can’t help but lean back into it a little bit. It’s been so long since he’s interacted with another human. He hadn’t realized how much he’s been longing for a simple conversation, a simple _touch_ , until now. 

“Why not? You’re a zombie now, aren’t you?” Jean ruffles the top of Eren’s head, the part he hadn’t trimmed short, and retrieves his scissors again. He leans in front of Eren, brushing the hair forward. He’s meticulous about cutting hair, studying the way it falls in Eren’s face before making the first careful cut. 

“I’m a zombie now,” Eren repeats with a snort, “but that doesn’t make me an expert on this. I’m completely new to this, in case you forgot.” 

Jean’s right, though. Eren isn’t anything like the zombies they’ve seen before. Most of them are just sluggish monsters, feet trailing as they moan and groan out incomprehensible noises before they get their brains smashed in by whoever they managed to run into first - maybe the second-grader down the street or even the mailman going about their rounds. Eren, however, is completely coherent and his existence is very close to that of a normal human being aside from his decayed appearance. He’s not sure if he got lucky and rose up before the worms had gotten to him. 

“You’re not, like, actively rotting, right?” Jean asks suddenly after finishing up on Eren’s bangs. 

“What? No!” Eren says, mortified and offended at the same time. Is he really that disgusting? He wouldn’t dare consider himself handsome now - he probably wouldn’t have considered it even if he were alive - but he feels suddenly self-conscious at Jean’s question. Aside from his sickly gray skin and his slight loss of muscle, he hasn’t decayed much and he hadn’t noticed any further deterioration following his resurrection. And even if he _were_ rotting, it’s not like he could control it. 

“I was just asking,” Jean mutters. 

“Whatever.” 

Eren watches as Jean does some fancy thing with his scissors, cutting away at Eren’s hair. It’s taking far longer than Eren had expected. He probably would have shaved his entire head and been done with it, but Jean has always been more patient when it comes to taking care of appearances. 

“Do I really look that bad?” Eren asks. He kind of wishes he hadn’t, but the words have already left his mouth. Jean can be brutal with his opinion at times. 

Jean pauses for a moment, taking a second to look at Eren. He doesn’t scrutinize Eren the way he sometimes scrutinizes celebrities and models on magazine covers, but the intensity of his gaze still makes the zombie squirm uncomfortably as he makes his analysis. “You’ve looked better,” Jean finally replies, “but you don’t look terrible.” 

“Oh.” It’s not the answer that Eren was expecting (although he’s not sure what kind of answer he wanted in the first place), but he’s content with it. 

His friend goes back to attending to Eren’s hair. “Believe it or not, you might actually look better than when you were dating Historia by the time we’re done.” 

“Historia?” At the mention of his girlfriend, Eren straightens his back, the movement startling Jean. The zombie grimaces apologetically when Jean shoots him a glare. He settles back to his original position and clears his throat, trying not to look too eager as he asks, “How is Historia?” 

“Oh, um,” Jean says. It’s difficult to tell if his delayed answer is because he’s reluctant to respond or if it’s because he’s currently trying to figure out what to do with this stray lock of hair that’s sticking up on Eren’s head. “She’s, ah, dating someone else now.” 

“She’s _what_?” 

“Stop moving or I’ll buzz off the rest of your hair and give you a mohawk,” Jean scowls, forcibly shoving Eren back into the chair. He cuts a little more hair but stops after seeing the frown on his friend’s face. He reaches out to brush off the hair on Eren’s shoulder and says with a sigh, “I mean, you can’t really blame her. You disappeared without a trace.” 

“Well, sorry for not leaving a message. If I knew I was getting _murdered_ , I probably would have let someone know that I wasn’t coming home!” Eren sniffs. He sits back in his chair with a _thud_ , arms folded across his chest. Historia dating someone else is the least of his problems right now, but he can’t help feeling a little miffed about the whole thing. 

It’s not like he loved Historia or anything super romantic like that, but he did like her a lot and he was certain she reciprocated those feelings. They met during their junior year of college through mutual friends and started dating towards the end of their senior year. Unlike Eren, she came from the bustling city of Sina, so it surprised him that someone from such a big city would take a liking to someone like him. She enjoyed photography, majored in it, and managed to find a job at a news company in the city. After failing to secure a job in the same city, Eren had thought that was the end of the relationship, but she had offered to try long-distance for a while. It worked a lot better than Eren thought it would. The distance between Shiganshina and Sina was too far for them to commute to each other every day, but they settled on seeing each other every other week. Sometimes Eren would come visit Historia, but more often than not she would come and visit him, claiming that the quaint little town had a charming and relaxing atmosphere that she could never find in the city. 

The last time he had seen Historia was a week before he had died. They went for a long walk around the town and he had taken her to the noodle shop he often frequented as a high schooler. She liked the broth and sent her compliments to the chef, an act that charmed the shop owner so much that a complimentary plate of dumplings was sent out to Historia and Eren. 

The last time Eren had spoken to Historia was the night before he died. They were speaking on the phone about the next visit - if Eren should travel to Sina or Historia to Shiganshina - before Eren excused himself to go on a nightly walk in the forest. He promised her he would call her later that night. And then he never did. Shit. 

“It’s not like she wasn’t worried about you,” Jean says. “I mean, she was pissed at first, but she looked for you when we all realized you were missing. We never found you, obviously, and it wasn’t like she was going to stay hung up on you forever. So she started dating someone else.” 

It’s true, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“How long before she started dating someone else?” Eren asks. He probably shouldn’t ask - the answer will most likely make him feel worse than he’s already feeling - but he’s morbidly curious. 

Jean finishes cutting Eren’s hair and ruffles the top of the zombie’s head one last time. “I’m not sure. Maybe half a year? A little longer? It’s not like I saw her regularly after you were gone.” 

“I guess,” Eren mutters a little forlornly. He doesn’t even want to look at his reflection when Jean holds up a mirror, but his eyes flicker up anyway. He takes the mirror in his hand and looks unhappily at his reflection. A hand reaches up to play with his hair, still the same chestnut brown but a little more brittle than it used to be. The sides and back of his hair are shorn short in a neat undercut but the top of his hair is still long, long enough to be swept towards the front and hang in the way of his water, green eyes. Looking at his reflection, his hair is really the only nice-looking thing about him. The rest of him still looks sad and ugly and pale. 

“Let me do your makeup now,” Jean tells him, already opening up his makeup kit. 

“Fine,” Eren sighs. He sets the mirror facedown on the nearby table and frowns as Jean wipes off the dust and grime on his skin with a wet wipe. He doesn’t like how cold and damp it is as Jean cleans his face - as a zombie, Eren finds the cold to be unbearable - and shudders as the wet wipe brushes against his cheek. As Jean finishes up cleaning his face, Eren asks, “Is the person she’s dating … nice?” 

“I guess.” Jean inspects the tiny bottles of moisturizer in his kit before deciding on a small white container with a brand name in neat black print that Eren doesn’t recognize. It doesn’t smell like anything, but it’s cool as Jean gently pats the moisturizer into Eren’s skin. “Historia’s girlfriend actually lives here. She moved here after you disappeared though. Came here after getting a job for our local newspaper. They must have met during one of the searches we did for you and, well.” 

He’s thankful that Jean leaves the sentence unfinished. Eren’s imagination can fill in the blank. He should probably be happy that Historia hasn’t spent the last year worrying about him, but he isn’t thrilled to hear that she’s moved on either. 

“Hey, can you stop frowning?” Jean asks. He waves his hand in front of his face, imitating Eren’s expression in an exaggerated manner. “You’re giving yourself wrinkles and your skin is hard enough to work with already.” 

“Sorry,” Eren mumbles.

“‘s fine,” Jean assures. He screws the cap back onto the jar of moisturizers and plucks a makeup sponge, a brush, and a tube of primer. He squirts a little of the primer - a light yellow gel that comes out the size of a dime - before dabbing at it with his makeup sponge and begins to rub it across Eren’s face. “I’ve never had a zombie as a client. If you end up looking good, it means that all those years at cosmetology school weren’t a waste.” 

Even if Jean doesn’t do well and Eren ends up looking like a zombie in clown makeup, Eren doubts that it’ll be a full representation of his friend’s full talents. Jean had a knack for art when they were kids; he knew exactly how to blend colors and shade. He even won a few art contests here and there back in middle school and high school. His talents seemed to transfer naturally when he decided to become a makeup artist, not that he’s had the chance to display them after finishing cosmetology school. Jean’s gifts go pretty much unused now (except for on the few occasions that Annie decides she wants to go out with a little more intricate makeup), but those types of skills just don’t go away. Of course, Eren would never say any of these things to Jean’s face. He had never complimented Jean and he wasn’t going to start now just because he started a new life. 

Instead, Eren says, “You’re painting me yellow.” 

Jean clicks his tongue as he begins to smooth out the primer over Eren’s skin. He’s gentle as he does it and Eren has to wonder if he’s this careful with his other clients or if he’s just cautious because Eren’s zombie skin is more delicate than normal human skin. “It’s just to help with your complexion. It’s really pale now, so this is to help cover up all those veins that we can see and hide the dark circles under your eyes. I probably would have used a pink primer if you were normal. Or something to help moisturize and lighten your skin.” 

Eren hums. He always knew makeup was complicated, but it’s another thing to actually sit down and experience it for himself. He’d never be able to do this on his own. 

“I’m gonna look fresh to death,” Eren murmurs as Jean moves in to apply some foundation. “Drop dead _gorgeous_.” 

Jean rolls his eyes, pausing to say, “I’m very good at making people look amazing, but I can also make you look even worse if I wanted to.” 

“No, thank you,” Eren squeaks, shutting up immediately. 

Normally, Eren wouldn’t bother making these types of jokes. Puns and play on words is the kind of humor that Reiner usually resorts to. If anything, Eren and the rest of his friends try to avoid it lest they annoy Annie with such nonsensically stupid humor, but Eren feels as if he doesn’t have a choice but to resort to such simple jokes if only to distract himself from everything that’s happening in front of him. 

The thing about being a zombie is that everyone, no matter who they are, looks like an attractive piece of meat. This includes the drunk hikers that stumbled into the woods at night that Eren sometimes saw from a distance, the farmer that Eren never liked as a child because he always smelled of manure, and Jean, the very same Jean that Eren had once called horse-face back when they were kids. Jean has since grown into his exceptionally long face and is, at least what the mothers in town would call, handsome, an adjective that Eren and his zombified brain would heartily agree with. 

Jean is inches away from Eren’s face as he dabs in foundation and concealer - both far too dark to match Eren’s current skin tone but are very close to his original color - and Eren can get a good look at his brown eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. People often said that Jean and Eren had similar eyes when they were children, something Eren didn’t really understand because his eyes were much bigger than Jean and also a completely different color. People would probably have a different opinion now because Eren’s eyes are now wet and watery all the time, but Jean’s brown eyes are bright, shining with intensity despite the dark bags under his eyes. Eren just wants to pluck them out and plop them in his mouth, crunch them between his teeth. They’d probably be as plump and juicy as an octopus ball. 

Up close, everything about Jean looks perfect. Even if Eren has never eaten a human in his life, Jean would probably be his ideal prey. He’s a decent size, tall with some lean muscle and not a lot of fat. Eren could probably feast on him for days. He can’t imagine Jean tasting like beef - he’s not muscular or meaty enough. He’d probably be more similar to the taste of venison: rich and earthy with a slightly sweet aftertaste. The texture would probably be the same too, Eren thinks hungrily, smooth and firm but juicier and more succulent than beef or even pork. 

Even Jean’s _skin_ looks enticing. Eren had never been one to notice people’s skin. He didn’t care about blemishes or acne or anything like that. He still doesn’t care even though he’s sitting so close he can see every mole, every acne scar, every single _pore_ on Jean’s skin. Those little imperfections hardly bother him. Those things won’t affect taste and texture, Eren is sure. He does, upon his close inspection of Jean’s skin, have a newfound appreciation for healthy skin. Jean’s is so shiny and clean that he’s practically _glowing_. It’s nice and tight pulled over smooth bone and firm muscle, keeping all this flesh nice and juicy. His lips look especially plump and pink, probably treated with some sort of lip care routine that Eren could never be bothered to make into a habit. Eren doesn’t remember if Jean’s lips were always that nice or if he’s just noticing it now. He kind of wants to lean over and have a taste, see if they’re as sweet as they look before he nibbles on them and rips them off, swallowing them whole. 

“You’re drooling,” Jean tells him, snapping Eren out of his ravenous reverie. 

“Sorry,” Eren mutters. He’d probably blush if zombies were capable of blushing. He reaches up to wipe the drool from his mouth but Jean hastily smacks his zombie hand away and wipes at the corner of Eren’s mouth with a wet wipe. 

He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about Jean. For one thing, he just promised Jean that he wouldn’t eat any people. As much as Eren wants to chomp on Jean’s face right now, eating his childhood friend would be very traumatic. He knows way too many things about Jean to eat him like he’s some poor rabbit right now. In fact, knowing so much about Jean should be a huge turn-off for Eren. Jean chews on the end of his writing utensils. He has terrible morning breath especially after he’s drunk coffee. He lets his dishes soak overnight before actually washing them. Why would Eren want to eat someone like that? Of course, it’s hard to remember all of that when Jean is sitting in front of Eren the way he is, his back hunched slightly and his brow furrowed in concentration while he nibbles on his bottom lip as he carefully applies some mascara to Eren’s eyelashes to make them look less sparse. 

Looking at Jean is definitely making Eren hungrier, so he squeezes his eyes shut hoping that not seeing Jean will make Eren forget just how delicious-looking his friend is. Unfortunately, that seems to make everything worse. Living by himself and hunting for his own food, becoming a predator to so many unsuspecting prey, has only heightened Eren’s other senses like smell and touch. 

Eren breathes in and his lungs are flooded with Jean’s scent. He smells sweet and earthy, like a mix of a freshly mowed lawn or rain-soaked soil. It overpowers the cold, sterile smell of makeup, all of them claiming to smell like flowers but really just smell like they’ve come out of a factory. Eren wants to bury his face in Jean’s scent, get lost in it as he presses his nose into Jean’s neck. It would probably be even better when he cuts Jean open, his fragrance mixing with the metallic smell of blood. 

God, Eren can just feel the saliva pooling at the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to get scolded for ruining his makeup again, so he tries to swallow it down only to choke on it. 

“You alright?” Jean asks. 

Eren chances a glance at his friend, cracking open an eye carefully. “I’m fine,” Eren manages even though he’s the complete opposite. 

“Okay, let me finish you up then.” Jean sets Eren’s makeup with a mist of some sort. (“It’s to help your makeup stay on,” the makeup artist explains. “I’ll probably have to redo some of it in the afternoon, but we’ll think about that later.”) He finishes it up by applying a nude lipstick to help cover up the cracks and the color of blue-gray lips. 

It’s difficult not to be fixated on Jean’s fingers, especially when they’re so close to Eren’s mouth. They’re long and slender, the type of fingers an artist has. Eren wants to wrap his lips around them and taste the salt on Jean’s skin. If he sucks hard enough, the fingers will probably detach with a deliciously clean _pop!_ Jean’s hands actually remind Eren of the chicken feet he and his friends used to get at the dim sum place near their university whenever they felt like treating themselves at the end of the term. Chicken feet didn’t taste nearly as good when Eren was a zombie. They were all skin and bone, not to mention the claws that nearly cut Eren’s tongue every time he ate them. Jean’s hands look like a more elegant version of chicken feet, his skin smooth and fingers meatier than the bony digits of a chicken. 

“Purse your lips for me,” Jean says. 

Eyes still fixed on Jean’s hands, the zombie obeys, frowning at the waxy feeling on his lips. It turns him off to the idea of eating Jean a little bit. He’d probably ruin his makeup and all of Jean’s hard work would go to waste. 

Jean studies Eren for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “Good. Try not to touch your face when you go outside or else you’ll smudge everything.” He caps the lipstick and begins to pack everything away in his kit before he notices a hand mirror he’s placed face down beside the kit. Taking it, he hands it to Eren. “Here, take a look.” 

Hesitantly, Eren takes the mirror and gazes on his reflection. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to see. When he was a zombie, he only saw his reflection a handful of times in pools of water and in the sideview mirrors of the farmer’s truck whenever he passed by. Despite knowing his true form, seeing himself with such lifeless gray skin and scraggly hair hanging in his face, the light that was always in his eyes when he was alive absent, was such a shock that he vowed to never look at himself again. Eren’s done his best to avoid looking at his reflection since then, only catching a glimpse every now and then and flinching in horror every time. But looking at his reflection now…

His skin is no longer a dull, sickly gray but a healthy tan. It’s not the exact same shade he was back when he was alive - it’s probably a few shades lighter - but it’s definitely an improvement. His makeup isn’t too apparent, which he appreciates. It’s one thing to disguise himself as alive and another thing entirely to show up in town a year later looking like a model. He just has some light blush in his cheeks and his lipstick hides how ugly and chapped his lips were before he came to Jean. Eren’s hair looks more socially acceptable now that it’s not hanging in greasy strands around his face. The undercut on the sides makes him look younger, a little livelier, and his hair is long enough on top to cover some of his eyes. It’s not enough to obscure his sight but enough to distract anyone from seeing how watery and tired his eyes look. As long as people aren’t looking too closely at him, they might just think he hasn’t slept in a while. He looks good. Great even. Jean was probably joking, but he really did make Eren look better than he did when he was alive. 

“I think you might have done too good of a job,” Eren mumbles. He’s about to reach up and touch his face, but Jean latches onto his wrist and shakes his head. Ah, right. No touching. 

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Jaeger.” 

Eren wonders if that’s supposed to be a compliment. He’s about to ask Jean, but Jean is already disappearing into his room. 

“It took longer than I thought it would to do your makeup,” says Jean. There are sounds of him shuffling through his closet for something to wear. He pops out and throws Eren an old oversized hoodie and some dark jeans. “Wear those. Keep your hood up while we’re out. I don’t know if we should tell people you’re back, at least not yet. Let’s meet Armin first.” 

“Alright.” 

He stares at the hoodie in his hands, wondering if he should put it on. Should he strip? It feels weird to undress in Jean’s living room, but it’s not like Jean hasn’t seen him in a locker room before. Then again, that was back when Eren’s body wasn’t all … gross. Still, Jean was actually pretty considerate about Eren’s current appearance aside from the question about decomposing. Ah, fuck it. 

Eren begins to take off his worn-out shirt and jeans, leaving them discarded on the floor. He pulls on the sweater first, careful not to mess up his makeup in the process. As soon as he puts his head through the hoodie, he immediately regrets it. He’s met with Jean’s overwhelming scent - warm and comforting and absolutely _delicious_. He breathes it in a little too hard before realizing that it’ll be awkward explaining to Jean if he’s caught in the act. Hurriedly, he pulls the hoodie over his head and wiggles his arms through the holes. He’s in the process of pulling the jeans over his legs when Jean steps out of his room. 

“Do you need help?” Jean is changed out of his pajamas and into casual outerwear - khaki pants and an overcoat thrown over a button-up. He has a knitted scarf wrapped around his neck, probably something Armin made when he was stressed out the night before a council meeting. On his head rests a matching knitted beanie. He looks so nicely put together that Eren feels embarrassed standing in his living room half-dressed. 

“N-no,” Eren stammers as he tugs the jeans over his calves and then his thighs. He wasn’t sure they would fit. He and Jean weren’t exactly the same size; Jean was always long and lanky even before he had his growth spurt, but Eren must have lost a lot of muscle mass during the zombification process because the jeans are a little roomy around his thighs. At least the cuffs are too short, ending an inch above his ankles, so Eren hasn’t grown shorter while he was buried under the ground. He straightens out his clothes and pulls his hood up, looking at Jean expectantly. “Where are we going?” 

“To talk to Armin,” Jean replies. He glances at his phone and nods at a text message before tucking the phone back in his pocket. Plucking his keys and wallet from the drawer, he walks to the door and opens it, beckoning for Eren to follow him. “Come on. Let’s figure out what to do with you before you accidentally eat someone.” 

“Right,” Eren chuckles nervously, thankful that Jean isn’t able to see the nervous sweat that’s currently breaking out on the back of the zombie’s neck. He wants to keep his promise of not eating people to Jean, he really does. More than anything, he wants to keep it to at least prove that he’s nothing like the other mindless zombies that have been roaming around and getting their heads smashed in. There has to be _some_ difference between him and them, Eren thinks, but it’s hard to believe when he’s busy staring at Jean’s backside and his long, long legs that seem to stretch on for days. It’s even more difficult when his eyes settle on Jean’s ass because his khakis hug his curves too well and it’s impossible for Eren to _not_ look. Eren wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into Jean’s ass and taste that sweet, peachy flesh on his tongue. 

_God_ , Eren thinks with a whimper as he pulls the hoodie over his face and forces himself to look at the ground so that he’s no longer tempted to eat his friend alive. _This is going to be the death of me_. 


	2. How To Come Out as a Zombie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren continues to navigate life as a zombie in a small town. Meanwhile, Jean convinces him that their band of idiots needs a brain and suggests recruiting the town genius: Armin Arlert, Eren's best friend with possibly the juiciest brain Eren has ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, I actually fixed this up a bit so I could publish it smoothly today, but it must not have saved ^^" It's not really that big of a deal though. 
> 
> I'm super flattered by the comments this has gotten so far! Hopefully, this next installment is just as entertaining as the first one. I would really like to see it to completion, but it's a bit daunting because it's probably one of the lengthiest works I've done so far and there's still so much more to go. 
> 
> I'm usually not a fan of writing ensemble casts, but this type of story kind of requires me to have one and I'm pretty excited about adding more characters as the story progresses. I hope you all enjoy ^^

Of all the places they have to meet Armin, of course, it has to be a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop either, but the Cornerstone Coffee Shop. It’s the café that pretty much defined Eren’s teenage years. It’s where Annie stress-ate jelly-filled powdered donuts after every exam, where Jean and Eren worked until midnight trying to finish their calculus homework because Armin wouldn’t let them copy off his, and where Reiner gathered his friends to inform them of his twelve-step plan to ask Bertholdt to be his boyfriend. (Reiner only got to step three before he couldn’t stand it anymore and asked Bertholdt out. The two were inseparable even after they went to separate colleges, so Eren wouldn’t be surprised to hear if they were still together.) Once upon a time, Eren had once wished this little family-owned establishment would be replaced by something like Starbucks, if only so he wouldn’t feel like he lived in the middle of nowhere. After living in the city for so long, he’s come to appreciate the family businesses that populate his town, and even now it feels like he’s finally come home. Eren just wishes that there weren’t so many people around. 

He slouches down in the leather booth, keeping his hood pulled down over his head. “Did we have to go somewhere so crowded?” he whispers, keeping his voice low so that people don’t overhear. His words are barely audible over the sound of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On,” which Eren swears has been playing in this café ever since the 1997 James Cameron film was released. 

“‘Cause if you try to attack me, I’ll have, like, twenty other people here to beat you to a pulp,” Jean replies, not looking up from scrolling in his phone. He takes a sip of his long black coffee; it’s already half-finished while Eren’s iced Americano (with a straw, Jean said, so as to not mess up his makeup) remains untouched. “Besides, I thought I didn’t have to worry about you trying to eat people because you’re a  _ vegetarian.”  _

“A vegetarian zombie and a vegetarian are two totally different things,” Eren hisses. 

God, he wants to kill Jean right now. Eren has wanted to kill Jean (i.e. devour him whole) the entire trip here, so eating him now would be kind of a waste. He should wait for Armin to come first before contemplating eating Jean because he needs at least  _ one _ person to help him. But it’s not like he’s seriously considering eating Jean. No, not at all. Not even as he sits in front of Eren looking positively delectable, like a human burrito bundled up in his coat and wrapped up in his scarf. Not even as Jean scrolls through his phone, his long and slender fingers swiping across the screen. Not even as Jean jostles his leg up and down, the muscles of his thick thighs flexing against the fabric of his khakis. Eren has to keep reminding himself that, although the thought of chomping down on Jean’s firm thighs might be tempting right now, nothing will ever help him get over the trauma of eating his childhood friend. Also, looking at the baseball bat next to Jean’s knee also reminds Eren that his head is going to get bashed in if he even tries to so much as lick Jean. 

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Eren says. It would have been better if they planned this out more, maybe come up with a game plan and find a way to break the news to Armin slowly. “Do you even have a plan?” 

“No,” Jean replies. He doesn’t seem stressed out about this at all, which stresses Eren out a  _ lot _ . “I figured it would just be best if we told it to him straight.” 

For some reason, Eren remembers Jean being a lot smarter than this. Jean was never booksmart, at least not in the way that Armin was, but he was smarter than Eren. Annie always said that between Eren and Jean, they only had two brain cells and Jean held both of them. It seems that Jean has somehow lost both brain cells over the past year that Eren’s been gone. 

“Full offense,” Eren says, “but that seems like the worst idea ever.” 

“Okay, let’s hear your idea then,” Jean says, finally putting down his phone. He sits back in his seat, arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at Eren expectantly. 

“... Maybe make him a pamphlet or something?” Eren suggests weakly. 

“Really? You have zero graphic design skills,” Jean snorts. 

What Jean says is, unfortunately, very true. Even designing a Powerpoint slide was difficult for Eren, who somehow always managed to put in unnecessary transitions between each slide which only made it more painful for him and every poor soul that had to sit through his presentations. His professors hated his presentations, and for good reason. Even though a pamphlet seems easier, Eren would probably fuck that up too. 

“I just don’t want him to run away in terror,” Eren mumbles, poking the ice Americano sitting in front of him. The condensation has made it to the surface of the table, making the coffee spin in tiny circles. 

“Just don’t try to eat him,” Jean says very unhelpfully. The little bell on the café’s front entrance chimes and Jean glances up. “Ah, Armin’s here.” He waves at the barista at the front — some high school kid that Eren hasn’t seen before — and says, “Light cappuccino please and another long black.” He gives a brief nod once the barista indicates that they’ve taken his order. 

Eren wants to look back at Armin. It’ll be the first glance he’s had of his best friend in a year, but he doesn’t want Armin to die of shock at his sudden reappearance. He’s also not sure how well Jean’s makeup disguises what he really is. Sure, Eren’s managed to walk through town undetected, but he’s mostly kept his head down and avoided eye contact with the townspeople. How Armin reacts to seeing Eren will be the true test of Jean’s ability. 

As Armin slides in beside Jean, Eren does his best to keep his head down and hide behind the napkin dispenser. Eyes fixed on the table’s surface, he takes in Armin’s reflection as best as he can. As far as he can tell, not much has changed aside from the fact that Armin has gotten his hair cut. Armin’s bob was cute back when they were in elementary school, but his undercut is a lot more mature and suits his job as a councilman. His face is a little skinnier, making Armin seem a little less boyish than he looked back in high school and college. Eren wonders if he’s been eating right. 

“I have a bunch of meetings today, so we kind of have to make this quick,” Armin says as he shrugs off his coat and lets it fall around his waist. He doesn’t seem to notice Eren at first. To Jean, he continues, “It must be really important if you took your morning shift off. What’s so important that you couldn’t wait until tonight?” 

Jean gestures at Eren, who timidly lifts his head but only so he can make brief eye contact with Armin. 

“Ah, I didn’t notice you. Sorry about that. It’s kind of hectic at work right now, so I’m a bit out of it,” Armin says. He extends his hand, waiting for Eren to take it. “I’m Armin.” 

Eren doesn’t take Armin’s hand. He just stares at it miserably, hating how he’s already analyzing the size and shape of it and wondering just how much meat is on it. Armin’s fingers are nowhere near as graceful and slender as Jean’s, but Eren still wants to pop them off and chomp on them like french fries. 

Wrenching his eyes away from Armin’s hand, Eren stares at the table and gazes down at his reflection. “I know,” he whispers raggedly. 

“Oh?” Armin raises an eyebrow and retracts his hand once it’s clear that Eren isn’t going to shake it. He glances at Jean and then back at Eren again. His lips quirk upwards in a confused smile. “So we’ve met before? I apologize, but I don’t seem to remember you …” 

“It’s … Armin, it’s me,” Eren says. He feels absolutely horrible for having to break the news to Armin this way, but Jean gestures for him to continue. He can’t really run from it now. Clearing his throat, he sits up straighter and, making eye contact with Armin, says, “It’s Eren.” 

“ _ Eren _ ?” His voice comes out in a hushed whisper and he begins to stand up only for Jean to yank him down by the arm. Armin's eyes are widened in disbelief and he blinks a few times, mouth wide open but no words coming out. “Oh my  _ god _ ,” he finally says, slumping against the leather booth. 

“I know. It’s a lot to take in,” Jean says, rubbing Armin’s back soothingly. 

“How long has he been back?” Armin asks before turning to Eren and asking again. “How long have you been back?” 

“Um, just since early this morning,” Eren says, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. He’s not sure he should proceed with the rest of his announcement. If Armin is this upset about Eren’s sudden return, hearing about Eren’s new undead status probably won’t make the blond feel any better. 

“Eren, you’ve been gone for an entire  _ year _ ,” Armin says. He’s sitting up now, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he assumes his lecturing pose reserved for when he’s absolutely pissed because either Jean or Eren (or both) have done something stupid. Eren prepares himself. “Does your mother even know you’re home? You left without any kind of note. We didn’t hear from you for a whole  _ year _ , Eren! Everyone thought you were  _ dead _ !”

Some people glance over as Armin raises his voice, but quickly go back to their own conversations. Eren and Jean only glance at Armin, sitting there silently as Armin seethes. Eren can’t remember the last time seeing Armin so angry. He sits there staring at the table, picking at his fingernails nervously. A waiter comes by and places Jean’s order of long black and cappuccino on the table and Jean says a polite “thank you.” After a moment, Armin rests with his back against the leather seat and, eyes closed, takes a deep breath. As he breathes, his lips move wordlessly, counting seconds. Finally, he opens his eyes and looks at both Eren and Jean for an explanation. 

Jean cups his hands around his warm mug of coffee. He blows on it, the silence between the three of them so loud it’s almost deafening, and he takes a long sip. Jean sets his mug down and puts an arm around Armin, looks him in the eye, and says, “Well, we weren’t wrong about him being dead.” 

Armin blinks. “What?” 

“I mean … Eren died the night he went missing,” Jean says. He’s completely focused on Armin right now, so he can’t see the way Eren is currently sinking down in the booth, so low that he’s almost under the table. “He’s a …” Here, Jean eyes dart quickly around the little coffee shop to make sure nobody’s eavesdropping and, for good measure, lowers his voice as he whispers, “Zombie.” 

“He’s a  _ what _ ?” Armin practically screeches. 

Jean clamps a hand over Armin’s mouth and puts a finger to his lips. “Calm down. People are going to kill Eren if they find out, so keep your voice down.” He keeps his hand over Armin’s mouth until Armin, looking at Jean and then Eren, gives him a nod. Jean gestures at Armin’s coffee. “Come on. Drink up. It’ll make you feel better.” 

“Caffeine isn’t actually good for stress,” Armin mumbles, but he still picks up his mug and takes a disgruntled sip of his coffee, practically glaring at Eren and Jean. He’s drunk half of his coffee by the time he sets down the mug. Gesturing at the two troublemakers, he says, “Okay. You two, explain.” 

“Um. Well, there isn’t really that much to it,” Eren says, still slumped in his seat. He pulls his hood over so it covers his eyes and tugs nervously on the strings. “It’s just … I went hiking that night I went missing. Someone … knocked me out? And, like, strangled me or something. I must have died because when I woke up I was just … like this.” He sits up a little bit, pulling at his sleeves so that he can show Armin his hands. Jean had made sure to cover most of Eren’s skin with makeup, but the palms of his hands are still deathly pale with prominent veins of purple and blue running underneath. 

“Jesus Christ,” Armin says. On the bright side, he doesn’t look as mad as he was at the beginning of this conversation, but he does look very tired. Turning to Jean, he asks, “And he came to you? And you guys decided to tell me?” 

“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Jean nods. He notices Armin hurriedly tapping away at his phone. Jean raises an eyebrow. “... What are you doing?” 

“Cancelling all my meetings for today,” Armin mutters. He looks up at Eren through his lashes. “This is more important than dealing with tourists stealing money from the fountain in the square.” 

Eren wrinkles his nose. “They’re still doing that? Assholes. I thought you guys were having a sign put in that told people they can’t do that.” 

“Yeah, well apparently they don’t know how to fucking read,” Armin replies, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trousers. He takes another sip of his coffee, slower this time so he doesn’t down the rest of it immediately. His brow is furrowed in a way that makes little wrinkles appear on his forehead, which means he’s thinking of a plan. It makes Eren regret not going to Armin first instead of Jean. After a moment, Armin taps on the table and then points at Eren and Jean. “Alright, we’re going to talk to Annie.” 

“Wait, right now?” Eren asks, alarmed. He was all for letting Annie know when he first talked to Jean about it, but he was thinking about letting her know a little down the line, maybe in a week or two. Now just seems like … a bad idea. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jean frowns. It’s clear he’s still against it. “What if she …?” He makes a slice motion across his neck with a finger, tilting his head a bit. 

Eren knows that the gesture is supposed to mimic Annie cutting his head off, but he can’t help thinking about how Jean’s neck looks so delectable when it’s stretched out like he’s inviting Eren to take a bite.  _ God _ , he really needs to stop. He forces himself to look at Armin so that he’s not tempted to suck on Jean’s Adam’s apple. 

“Why haven’t  _ you _ killed him yet?” Armin asks Jean. 

“Well, because … Eren’s my friend?” Jean says, but his voice goes up at the end. 

Eren looks at Jean suspiciously. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Annie’s his friend too. Have more faith in her,” Armin says, ignoring Eren. 

“Okay, fine, but we shouldn’t go without proper preparation first,” Jean says. Eren thinks Jean is getting up to reach for a napkin and maybe scribble out some semblance of a plan, but he just waves Armin out of the way and, after Armin gets up, gets out of the booth and goes over to the counter to order something, leaving Armin and Eren alone for the first time. 

Eren fidgets in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Armin. He can see from Armin’s reflection in the table’s surface that the blond is staring at him with arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t really thought about how Armin would feel about all of this ― learning Eren died, that he came back to life, that he was afraid of telling Armin everything. When was the last time he had ever kept anything from Armin? Aside from the obligatory surprises hidden from Armin like Christmas gifts or unexpected parties to celebrate the little blond genius’ latest academic achievements, Eren always told Armin everything and vice versa. Eren had been so worried about keeping his new identity a secret, he didn’t think about how it would affect Armin. Of course, Armin would be shocked, but he would always accept Eren in the end. He doesn’t know why he thought Armin’s reaction would be any different. 

“Sorry!” Eren suddenly blurts out. He digs his nails into the denim of his jeans, still unable to meet Armin’s eyes. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you first. I just … panicked. I didn’t want you to freak out or … be disgusted by me.” 

“Eren, I would never …” Armin’s voice grows soft and he reaches out, holding his palm upward as he invites Eren to place his hand in his. When Eren looks up, Armin’s looking at him with the most sympathetic eyes. “I’ll get over it. It’s not really about me anyway. I can’t imagine everything you’ve been through, especially since you had to deal with so much of this on your own up until recently. You know you can always tell me anything. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.” 

Eren places his hand in Armin’s. His skin is so rough and cold compared to Armin’s smooth and warm hands. His hand is so disgusting in comparison that he’s afraid that Armin might pull away, but Armin just holds onto him tightly and Eren thinks he’s about to cry. 

“I really missed talking to you. Dealing with this all by myself … it was almost unbearable.” It’s embarrassing how choked up it’s getting, but Eren can’t help the tears that are beginning to sting at the corner of his eyes. When Armin offers him a napkin to wipe them away, Eren hastily accepts and dabs at the corners of his eyes before his makeup can be ruined. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you first. I don’t know why I didn’t.” 

“You were scared,” Armin says gently. He hands Eren a few more napkins and motions for Eren to blow his nose, which the zombie does obediently. Armin politely waits for Eren to finish before continuing. “Honestly, going to Jean was a good idea. He’s good under pressure.” 

“You are, too,” Eren insists, but Armin shakes his head with a smile. Eren clutches the used napkins in his fist. “I mean, you handled this a lot better than I thought you would. I honestly thought you would faint if you found out and I’d … I’d eat you if you were lying unconscious in front of me.” 

He expects Armin to be horrified, but Armin only shrugs. “I’ve been going to therapy after you, you know, disappeared. It helps a lot,” Armin explains. His hands cup the mug of coffee on the table, his index fingers tapping against the speckled ceramic. “I used to go twice a week, but now I only go once every other week. It helps me manage my anxiety and stress. Not just with you but everything in general.” 

“Ah,” Eren nods, a little dazed. He does notice that Armin is a little different from before. Armin used to always look at his watch, anxious about upcoming deadlines even if they were hours away. It was normal for Armin to always be moving. Maybe it was him jiggling his leg or tapping his fingers, the movements always jittery like he was a ticking clock. Now, he sits in front of Eren, a little concerned but a lot calmer than he used to be. “Has a lot changed since I’ve been gone?” Eren wonders aloud. 

“Hmm? Not that I can think of,” Armin replies with a shake of his head. His shoulder slump a bit as he tries to think of any news worth sharing. “I’m sure Jean must have told you most of it already. Annie still works at the bookstore with Hanji. Reiner still teaches kindergarten. He and Bertholdt are still very much in love, by the way. Ah, Historia …” His voice trails off and he looks cautiously at Eren. 

“I know already,” Eren says, casually waving away any concern Armin might have about bringing up the topic even though thinking about Historia still stings. “Don’t worry about it. Jean told me. It’s fine. It would have been selfish to expect her to wait for me for an entire year.” 

“Sorry,” Armin says. He takes a sip of his coffee, finishing up the rest of it. “If it’s any consolation, she was really distraught when you went missing. She took it pretty hard. Maybe if this all works out we could tell her …?” 

Eren only shrugs. He’s not sure how it would work out, him being a zombie and Historia being a human, but he appreciates Armin’s optimism. “It’s fine. My current condition doesn’t really leave me any room to think about any romantic entanglements.” 

Someone dangles a bag of donuts in their faces and the two friends look up to see Jean. 

“You’re right. Focus on not getting killed by Annie first,” Jean says. He gestures for the two to get up and follow him out the coffee shop. After generously tipping the barista, Jean leads Armin and Eren towards the bookstore Annie works at, donuts in one hand and his baseball bat dangling in the other. 

“Do you really think that donuts are going to be enough to get Annie to not kill me?” Eren asks nervously. 

Jean shrugs. “We’re just going to have to wait and see.”

* * *

When they open the door, Eren is hit with the nostalgic scent of musty books and cinnamon candles. Hanji always described it as the scent of autumn, replacing the cinnamon candles with peppermint-, lilac-, and peach-scented candles in the winter, spring, and summer, respectively. Eren keeps his head down and his hood pulled over his face as ordered by Jean, but he can see that the bookstore has the same creaky floorboards and faded-red “Welcome!” mat. 

“Hey, what are you fellows doing here so early in the morning?” asks a voice, chipper and bright. It’s definitely Hanji, Eren thinks. “You guys don’t have work today? No important council meetings, Armin?” 

“We took work off today,” Armin replies quickly. He links his arm around Eren, trying to tug the zombie behind him even though Armin’s far too small to hide Eren. “Annie and Reiner’s old classmate came to visit and Reiner asked us to show him around since he has work. We thought he’d like to come see Annie for a bit before we show him the rest of the town.” 

“Oh, really? You’re from the city then?” Hanji asks, getting dangerously close. They almost succeed in peering into Eren’s hood, but Jean quickly yanks Eren behind him, standing in between them. Unfortunately, this means Eren is pressed up against Jean and while Jean’s thick coat hides most of Jean’s shape, it can’t hide Jean’s broad shoulders and Eren almost whimpers because not being able to take even one bite into Jean’s shoulder is  _ killing _ him. 

“Yeah, but he’s, ah, shy around people. He has a bit of social anxiety when he meets new people,” Jean says, glancing at Eren. 

Normally, Eren would scoff. He’s the least shy person he knows aside from maybe Reiner, but right now he’s busy trying to hold his breath so that he doesn’t breathe in Jean’s earthy scent. One sniff and Eren knows he’ll be a goner, tackling Jean to the ground and nibbling on his ears. Hanji spends so much time staring suspiciously at Eren that the zombie thinks he might lose consciousness. 

“Ah, my apologies then,” Hanji says, convinced after seeing how Eren is beginning to sway unsteadily just trying to stand up. They take a few steps back and smile cheerfully at the trio. “Annie’s in the basement doing some inventory. Please feel free to come back up and browse if you’re curious. I’ll be sure to give you guys enough breathing space.” 

“Thanks, Hanji,” Jean says, already shoving Armin and Eren towards the basement. 

They shuffle down the stairs, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. It’s dark in the basement aside from the flickering light overhead. Eren’s only been here a few times; he’s never been an avid reader, but there were times where Annie or Armin would call a meeting at the basement of the bookstore because not many people visited and Hanji didn’t mind if Annie took the space for herself. Right now, Annie is sitting at the table in the center of the basement, glasses perched on her nose as she checks an order for a pickup. It’s only when Jean stops in front of the table and coughs that she looks up, bored. 

“Kirstein,” she says curtly. Annie raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have work?” 

“I had to take work off,” Jean says with a shrug. He glances at her and then at the open door behind them. “Do you mind if we talk here for a moment? Preferably with some … privacy.” 

“Without Reiner?” she asks. 

“It’s not something we can talk about with him,” says Jean. 

“But we can talk about it with … whoever that is?” Annie says, craning her neck to take a better look at Eren. 

Jean stands in front of Eren, blocking him from Annie’s view. “We’ll explain it in a bit just … if you could close the door.” 

Annie looks suspiciously at Jean, not budging an inch. 

“Annie … please,” Armin pleads timidly. 

Annie looks from Jean to Armin. It’s not that she has a soft spot for Armin, but she trusts him the most because, as she said once, “He’s the only one who has any sense in this stupid group.” There have been times where she’s disagreed with Armin, arguing with him because she couldn’t understand his thought process, but she always follows him in the end even if she does so grudgingly. It’s no surprise when she finally stands up from her chair, letting it screech across the wooden floor as she gets up, and stomps over to the door, glaring at the three of them the entire time. 

“Hey, Hanji! I’m going to need this room for a bit. Knock if you need anything,” Annie calls, sticking her head out the door. She waits for an acknowledgement from her boss before slamming the door shut behind her. Annie stomps down the stairs and stands in front of the trio, foot tapping impatiently and arms crossed against her chest. Even though she stands at a very short five feet, she’s still incredibly intimidating. 

“Um, so,” Jean mumbles, looking at the floor. He glances back at Eren and Armin for help. 

“Just spit it out,” Annie says. 

Jean stands there frozen for a minute before saying suddenly, “Eren’s back and he’s a zombie.” 

Annie blinks. Once. Twice. She looks at Eren, takes him in. He can see her analyzing him, piecing together all the pieces ― his height, the way he slouches, the way Jean’s clothes don’t quite fit him ― and he closes his eyes as she widens her, awaiting the inevitable  _ smack _ that’ll knock him to the floor and crack his head open like an egg. It never comes. 

Someone moves swiftly in front of him and Eren hears Jean grunt and what he’s almost certain is Annie growling. Reluctantly, Eren opens his eyes to see Jean grabbing Annie by the wrist. In her hand is a hefty book that she must have grabbed from one of the shelves behind her. Annie’s glaring up at Jean, her eyes blazing a fiery blue, while the makeup artist struggles to keep her from bludgeoning Eren with a six-inch piece of literature. 

“Annie,” Jean grunts through gritted teeth. His hand trembles and it’s clear that he can’t hold Annie back much longer. “Hear us out first.” 

“Don’t need to,” Annie growls. Her eyes flicker towards Eren and he flinches under her gaze. “I’ll kill him anyway, so I might as well just kill him sooner than later.” 

“Annie, he’s not like a normal zombie,” Jean says. He stumbles back a little bit, Annie beginning to overpower him, but regains his footing. “If he were, Armin and I would be eaten by now.” 

“Stop getting attached to a zombie just because he used to be our friend,” Annie snarls. She tries to yank herself free from Jean’s grip, but he doesn’t let go. “Jean, I can kill you  _ and _ the zombie. Let  _ go _ !” 

Armin stands in front of Eren, arms trembling as he holds them out protectively. “Annie, please,” the blond begs, bottom lip quivering. “I know it looks bad but just … you can’t kill him. I know he’s a zombie now but … he’s still our friend. He’s still Eren.” 

Annie’s hand is still up, the book raised as a weapon, but her eyes are softer now as she looks at Armin. After a moment, her grip on the book relaxes and she finally lowers her arm, and Jean lets out a sigh of relief. Her stance is still defensive, back stiff as she stands with her feet apart as if ready to attack if Eren shows any sign that he wants to eat them. 

“I hate all of you guys,” she grumbles, glowering at Eren. 

“We know.” Jean sighs and rubs his face. He picks up the bag he had dropped on the floor in his haste to protect Eren and shoves it at Annie. “Here. They’re your favorite.” 

Annie raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag. Peering inside, she asks, “Donuts?” 

“They’re the powdered ones,” Eren says, remembering out loud. His voice is shaking, still terrified that Annie might beat him to death with a dictionary or nearby textbook, but he thinks this might serve as proof that he remembers her. That he’s not like the other zombies that just go around eating people and groaning unintelligibly. “The ones with the jelly inside.” 

She looks up at him and he freezes, but then she sighs and walks over to the table, slumping back into her chair. When she gestures at the rest of them to take a seat, Eren thinks that he might just survive this meeting. 

“So, our childhood friend has managed to come back after going missing for a year, but now he’s a zombie.” Annie clasps her hands together in front of her and looks at everyone at the table, and the group nods at her in confirmation. She keeps the six-inch novel within reach beside her. Unlike most people, Annie doesn’t carry around a weapon to fight off zombies. She doesn’t need one. Jean has a baseball bat and Armin, who isn’t as strong as either of them, has a hefty wrench that dangles from his belt loop. Annie is one of the rare people who can fight off zombies with her bare hands. One kick from her and zombies get knocked down easily, brains spilling from their skulls like spaghetti spilled from a pan. It’s what happens when your dad owns the martial arts studio down the streets. Of course, Annie doesn’t usually fistfight with zombies, choosing to just take whatever object is nearby and bludgeoning them to death with it. Less blood gets on her clothes that way. 

“That’s … the gist,” Armin says. He chuckles to ease the atmosphere, but it comes out sounding forced. He clears his throat and says, “He really isn’t dangerous though. Jean’s been with him since last night and I met him this morning.” 

“He says he’s a vegetarian,” Jean offers. 

“I said _kind_ _of_ like a vegetarian,” Eren says, glaring at Jean. To Annie, he explains, “I’m not a cannibal or anything. I haven’t … I’ve never eaten anyone.” 

“Even if you did eat someone, you wouldn’t be a cannibal,” Armin says absentmindedly. He has a habit of correcting people without thinking about it. “You’d have to eat other zombies to be considered a cannibal because humans and zombies aren’t exactly the same species.” 

Eren blinks. He hadn’t really thought about that before. The thought of digging his teeth into another zombie, someone with half-rotted flesh like him, sagging skin over an emaciated body. He almost gags. Shaking his head profusely, he hurriedly says, “I don’t want to eat any of them. I don’t want to eat zombies  _ or _ humans.” 

Annie doesn’t look convinced. “First time for everything,” she says dismissively. She rests her cheek in her hand and looks at Armin. “Look, I know you’re attached to Eren because we all grew up with him, but it’s in a zombie’s nature to eat people. He could give in to his urges at any moment.” 

“No, he’s different. I mean it, Annie!” Armin says as Annie rolls her eyes. He scoots up to the edge of his seat, hands beginning to gesture wildly the way they usually do when Armin is about to give a long explanation. “I’m not just saying this because it’s Eren. He’s fully conscious of what he is. He speaks, he thinks, he … he’s nothing like the other zombies we’ve seen before.” 

Annie slouches in her seat and folds her arms against her chest. Grudgingly, she says, “Go on.” 

“With Eren, we have a zombie that can listen and … and work with us! We’ve had zombies before. In fact, our small town has far more cases of zombie appearances than the city, but we’ve never looked into it because we’re too busy killing them!” Armin says. He’s bringing up a lot of good points that Eren has never thought about before. Letting Armin know about his zombie situation was definitely a good decision. 

“And he can help us how?” Annie snorts. “Is he gonna tell the other zombies to fuck off?” 

“No, nothing like that,” Armin says with a shake of his head. “In fact, we should probably keep the fact that he’s alive ― or at least that he’s a zombie ― from everyone, especially if we want to find out who killed him.” 

Annie does a double-take. “Wait, someone  _ murdered _ you?” she asks Eren. She looks at Jean. “Why didn’t any of you guys mention this to me before?” 

“Ah.” Eren can only blink. He had honestly forgotten that detail between all his plans to reintegrate himself into his hometown and telling his friends he’s a zombie. It hadn’t occurred to him that his murderer still might be running around killing other people. 

“It … slipped our minds,” Jean says sheepishly, ducking his head. 

Armin rubs at his arm awkwardly. “We kind of forgot to tell you because we were a little busy preventing you from murdering Eren,” Armin mumbles as Annie glares at them like they’re the biggest group of idiots she’s ever met. “If someone killed Eren and he turned into a zombie, then maybe someone is actively killing people and  _ turning _ them into zombies.” 

“Hm.” Annie plays with the silver hoop that dangles from her earlobe, rubbing the metal between her thumb and index finger. “It would explain all of the tourists that went missing only to come back as zombies.” 

It is a well-known fact in the town that an alarming number of zombies that appear often wear the clothes and share the same physical (although somewhat decayed) characteristics of tourists that have gone missing. Not many people batted an eyelash though. The townspeople figured that the tourists just didn’t heed warnings about hiking in the mountains late at night; only people who have lived in the town their whole lives went into the mountains at night because the paths could be confusing and difficult to navigate in the dark, and even then it was dangerous. Of course, the tourists never listened and most went up there anyway. Some never came back, but the most townspeople suspected that those that returned as zombies were doing some stupid satanic ritual or trying out some urban legend. 

“Wait, you think someone’s out there killing people and turning them into zombies?” Jean asks, wrinkling his nose. “Why would anyone do that? They always turn out horrific.” 

“Most of them, maybe,” Armin says. “But maybe they aren’t supposed to. Maybe they’re supposed to be more like … Eren.” He casts a side glance at the zombie. 

“Me?” He’s flattered that Armin believes him to be the highest quality of zombie, but he’s not sure he’s following everything the councilman’s saying. There’s nothing impressive about him. He’s lost most of his muscle mass, his eyes are wet and watery, and his breath always smells rotten. What would anyone want to do with him? 

“What’s the advantage of an Eren zombie versus other zombies?” Jean asks. “I mean, they’re not that much different.” 

Eren makes a squeak of indignation, but Armin ignores him. 

“You could essentially have, if you wanted, an undead army,” Armin explains patiently. “Eren doesn’t move the same he did when he was alive, but he’s a lot faster than other zombies. Also, as I’ve said before, he knows he’s a zombie. He knows his own weaknesses. He can dodge attacks that come at his head. We could probably stab him anywhere else and he’d be fine. As long as he keeps his head safe, he’s pretty much immortal.” 

Annie looks contemplatively at Eren, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to stab Eren in the thigh with her hairpin just to test Armin’s theory. 

“This doesn’t seem very well thought-out,” Jean murmurs. “There must be easier ways to take over the world.” 

Armin shrugs. “This is just a theory. We’d have to catch the culprit to find out their real motive. We should do some research first though.” He’s already pushing himself out of his seat and glancing at the shelves. “Of course, we should keep this all between ourselves. No need to cause panic right now, especially without solid evidence. No letting this slip to our parents or friends or … potential significant others.” He subtly glances at Annie. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, so don’t worry,” she snaps with a roll of her eyes, but her cheeks are flushing a bright shade of pink. 

“You’re still not with Mina yet?” Eren asks incredulously. “I can’t believe you haven’t made any moves since I died, and it’s been an entire year.” 

“Maybe I want to make sure everything’s perfect before I ask her,” Annie glares. With a sigh she says, “Even if we were dating, I wouldn’t tell her any of this. It’d probably just scare her away.” 

“You never know,” Jean says in a sing-song voice, but he shuts up immediately when Annie snarls at him. He gets up from his chair, pushing it in, and re-wraps his scarf around his neck. “I should get going. Good luck with research!” 

“What!” Eren squawks. “You’re not going to help us?” 

“Nope,” Jean replies cheerfully, tossing his apartment keys to Eren who almost doesn’t catch them. He’s already walking up the steps, waving goodbye to Armin and Annie who hardly pay him any attention. “I only took the morning off today, so I can’t spend all day with you. I’ll see you at the apartment though. Take care of him, Armin.” 

“See you,” Armin says without looking up. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as he brainstorms his next move. Eren tries to keep his attention on Armin because looking at Annie, who’s currently looking at him like she’s waiting for an opportunity to kill him, is stressful. After a moment, Armin says, “I’m going to collect all the newspapers of the missing tourists, the ones that showed up later as zombies and the ones that were never found. Maybe they all have something in common. Annie, can you and Eren look at examples of zombies? It can be in humans or animals. It might be helpful to understand Eren’s condition more.” 

“I’m on it,” Annie says, already getting up to peruse the books on the basement shelves. 

“Okay, I’ll get the newspapers from upstairs,” Armin says, getting up from his chair. He’s about to leave when a panicked Eren grabs his arm and yanks him back. “Ah, is there something you need, Eren?” 

“Um.” Eren glances back at Annie, who’s staring at him amusedly from behind a bookshelf. He swallows nervously. “I … you’re leaving me alone,” he says stupidly. 

Armin blinks. “Annie’s here,” he points out, not making the connection between Eren’s knocking knees and Annie’s presence. 

“I … I know,” Eren stammers. He wants to get on his knees and beg Armin not to leave him alone with Annie, but he’s pretty sure Armin would insist that it was fine. Also, he doesn’t want Annie to see him looking so pathetic. Even if she does want to kill him, they’re still technically friends and he doesn’t want her to hold this moment over him if he does somehow manage to last five minutes alone with her in the same room. 

“Just go. He’s being stupid,” Annie says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Alright. I’ll only be a minute.” Armin gives Eren a reassuring smile, pries himself from the zombie’s grip, and disappears up the steps, making sure to shut the door after him as he greets Hanji upstairs. 

Eren turns around, arms held up in order to protect himself from whatever projectile Annie plans to hurl at him. The blow never comes and Eren, though still on his guard, slowly lowers his arms. He’s surprised when he spots Annie still flipping through books between the shelves, a few books clamped beneath her arm. 

“You’re really … doing research?” Eren asks, dumbfounded. 

Annie looks up, eyebrow raised. “Of course. I’m not crazy about the idea of letting a zombie walk around town, but I trust Armin,” she replies. She finishes flipping through the book she’s currently scanning through and puts it on the shelf with a shake of her head. Walking towards the table, she sets them down and shoves them in Eren’s direction. “And I know I did try to kill you a few minutes ago but … Armin’s right. You’re not like the other zombies. You’re … you. And we’re friends, so I should help you out if I can.” Annie pauses and then adds, “But I won’t hesitate to kill you if you eat anyone.” 

Eren feels oddly touched. He thinks it’s the most Annie’s ever spoken about their friendship. “Thanks,” he says. He approaches the table and reaches for one of the books that Annie had pushed towards him, frowning when he reads the cover. Wrinkling his nose, he asks, “Why do you want me to read about Haitian Vodou?” 

“Because it’s relevant,” Annie replies in a tired tone that’s oddly reminiscent of the one she’d use whenever he asked her for help on projects for school. She takes a seat and picks a book from her pile, checking the table of contents before flipping to a certain page. “They had a practice of resurrecting the dead.” 

“Like necromancy?” Eren asks. He also flips through his own book but all he sees are chapters on Haitian Vodou beliefs about the soul, which he finds somewhat interesting. His eyes wander across the page, distracted until Annie slams a hand down on the pages and forces him to look up. 

“Not exactly like necromancy,” Annie says with a shake of her head. She pushes her book towards Eren. It’s opened to a section about something called a  _ bòkò _ . Apparently, they’re individuals that deal with the supernatural, although that’s the incredibly oversimplified definition Eren takes away from the lengthy paragraphs of text. Annie continues, “Necromancy comes from the practice of divination; it deals more with the spirits of the dead than resurrecting someone. A  _ bokor _ actually revives someone after death.” 

“Ah,” Eren nods with a frown. He’s not sure how Annie got all that. The words in front of him are just swimming around, none of them making any sense. Eren’s never been that good at doing research. He just takes Annie’s word for it. “You know an awful lot about zombies already.” 

Annie shrugs, pulling the book back so that she can look through it. “I know some stuff. It’s good to know a little bit of everything when you’re working at a bookstore,” she replies, flipping a page. “Sometimes tourists come by asking for things on zombies. I haven’t done much research on it. Figured there wasn’t really a point until now.” 

“Hmm.” Eren flips through the book, stopping when his eye catches on the word “zombie.” Apparently, the process of turning someone into a zombie includes giving an individual a certain concoction and, after the person has passed on, revive them with another drug. Eren’s not sure if any of this happened to him. If it had, he can’t remember. “So you think this is what happened to me?” 

Annie wrinkles her nose. “Not really, no, but it might be helpful to know. It’s possible that, if someone did turn you into a zombie, they use a similar method,” she replies. Annie peruses through the book. Eren’s not sure how she’s able to take in any information looking if she’s looking through the book so quickly, but Annie’s always been better at research papers than Eren was. “Do you mind looking at these? I’m going to start looking for examples of zombie-like behavior in animals.” 

“Ah, okay,” Eren says. He feels a little overwhelmed when Annie shoves her stack of Haitian vodou books at him, but he doesn’t want to complain, especially when Annie and Armin are going above and beyond with researching for him. 

They don’t do very much talking after that. Annie goes in and out of the basement, piling more and more books onto the table. Some books are about animals — deer, carpenter ants, different parasites — while others are specifically about diseases — rabies and the African sleeping sickness. Eren’s relieved that Annie doesn’t ask him to take any new books; he feels like looking at vodou is going to take him all night, although he does feel bad about Annie looking at a dozen different topics. He’d offer to take one or two more topics just to lighten her load, but he feels like she’d just brush him off. This scenario is awfully reminiscent of when they’d be paired for school projects and Annie would end up doing all of it because she said Eren was just going to “ruin everything.” (To be fair, she wasn’t exactly wrong in saying that. The one time she had allowed him to help during a chemistry lab, he set off the fire alarm and they got an F. He can understand why Annie doesn’t let him do anything.)

As Eren is reading about the role of  _ bokors _ in Haitian vodou, Armin bursts through the door, a pile of newspapers in his arms. The basement door falls shut behind him as the blond walks down the stairs. When he gets to the table, he lets the papers fall from his arms with a loud  _ thud _ . 

“The good news is that I managed to obtain newspapers about missing tourists and every zombie sighting over the past five years,” Armin says, his mouth set in a grim line. “The bad news is -” 

“That’s a shitton of papers,” Annie finishes for him. 

“It is,” Armin agrees with a nod. He glances at the pile of books between Annie and Eren. “There’s probably more out there from previous years that the newspapers might have missed, but this is a good start. I’d suggest we’d split these up, but it looks like you guys have your hands full already …” 

“Ah,” Eren says, sitting up a bit. He motions to the pile of books in front of him. It’s considerably smaller than Annie’s pile. “Annie only gave me these. If you want, I could -” 

“No!” 

The combined voices of both Annie and Armin shouting at him make the zombie flinch in surprise. 

“I mean,” Armin coughs, clearing his throat. “That won’t be necessary. It’ll probably be easier if we all stick to a topic.” He smiles politely at Eren. 

Eren sulks for a little bit in his seat. Neither Annie nor Armin’s reactions are unexpected. Like Annie, Armin also knows how bad Eren is at schoolwork and doing research in general. However, Armin always let Eren do a fair share of the work, preferring to have Eren learn alongside him even if it meant lowering their overall grade to a B (and, on some occasions, a C). It makes sense that Armin wouldn’t allow Eren to take more work than he can handle. 

Eren slumps, knocking his back against the chair, and lets out a loud sigh. Both Annie and Armin ignore him, leaving the disgruntled zombie no choice but to do the work assigned to him.

* * *

They decide to give it a rest by noon because none of the words Eren is reading make sense anymore and his constant finger-tapping on the table is so distracting that Annie makes it clear that she will absolutely kill Eren regardless of whether or not he’s a zombie. Although Eren insists on coming back after a small lunch break, Armin and Annie (mostly Armin) assure him that he doesn’t need to return; everyone (re: Annie and Armin) might work better if they do research on their own, Armin suggests, so Eren packs up the Haitian vodou books that he feels are most useful. Annie stays behind, but Armin also packs his things to walk Eren back to Jean’s apartment. 

The two of them say their goodbyes to Annie and head up the stairs. Armin does most of the talking with Hanji, thanking them for not disturbing the quartet’s basement meeting, and Hanji seems to accept Eren’s mumbled thank you as well as the zombie and councilman hurry out the door. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to buy something for you from the market?” Armin asks Eren once they’ve left the bookstore. It’s a bit difficult to hear Armin because he’s mumbling in his scarf, but Eren figures that Armin’s only doing that to prevent people from overhearing their conversation or reading their lips. “I could even grab something from the butcher if you prefer something fresh.” 

Something fresh — freshly slaughtered, the smell of the farm still lingering on it, blood dripping from a chunk of thick, juicy, meat. It sounds better than anything Jean might have in his fridge, but Eren doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want Armin seeing him salivate over raw meat. He doesn’t want to risk Armin watching him eating it, shoving raw beef hide into his mouth and nearly choking on it because he’s so desperate to gorge on  _ any _ kind of flesh. No, Eren thinks with a shake of his head. Armin might be fine with it, but Eren certainly won’t allow his friend to see him acting so monstrously. 

“It’s fine. Jean says he still has some pork in his freezer that I could eat,” Eren says with a forced smile. It’s probably all dried out by now. Even if he does defrost it, the meat will probably have lost all its flavor. Still, it’s not as if he can be picky with his food. 

“Well, if you’re sure okay with that,” Armin says, sounding unconvinced. They walk a few paces forward, passing by the ramen shop and electronics store. “You’re fine with living with Jean, too?” 

Eren shrugs. It’s not like he has many options here. He doesn’t have money to rent a place of his own and he’s not sure how he’d go about getting an apartment without alerting someone’s attention about his presence. “I don’t have any other place to go.” 

“You could live at my place for a while,” Armin suggests. 

“You live with your parents. Even if they don’t recognize me as I am right now, it’s going to be difficult to explain why you have to buy so much raw meat or why I never eat in front of people,” Eren points out with a shake of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Eren sees Armin open his mouth, but Eren knows the blond is going to suggest living with Annie, which is an even worse option than Jean. Holding a hand up to stop Armin from even letting Annie’s name leave his mouth, Eren says, “Don’t. Annie’s going to kill me if I even breathe wrong. Besides, Mina might get the wrong idea if she finds out a mysterious man is living in Annie’s apartment and then MinAni will never happen.” 

Armin kicks at a pebble, grimacing. “I guess you’re right.” He looks at Eren through his eyelashes, barely lifting his head. “You’re really alright though? You’ll tell me if you need anything, right? I really meant it when I said we were friends. Nothing has to change just because you’re … you know.” He gestures at Eren. 

Obviously, some things have to change, but Eren’s still touched by Armin’s words. “Thanks. I’m managing just fine now, but I’ll let you know if I need anything. You guys are all doing more than enough.” Eren takes a deep breath and sighs through his nose. “I mean, I always knew I could count on you guys but I never thought I’d find out like this.” 

“Right?” Armin laughs. He runs a hand through his blond hair, letting the locks fall into his face messily. “It’s not a situation anyone would want to be stuck in, but at least you’re not alone.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Reiner would have your back too, you know.” 

“I know,” Eren sighs. “It’s just that Reiner can be a bit …” 

“A bit what?” a voice says as hands suddenly cling to the chain fence surrounding the local elementary school. 

Eren’s frozen in surprise, but Armin lets out a loud yelp and nearly falls over backward at the sight of Reiner behind the fence. Hastily, Eren yanks Armin upward and shoves the small blond in front of him, trying to make himself as small as possible even though there’s no way that Armin’s tiny form can hide him. He takes a peek at Reiner from behind Armin’s shoulder and sees his old childhood friend looking curiously at him, craning his neck to get a good look at Eren. 

“O-oh, h-hey! I d-didn’t know you were d-done with your morning shift already, R-Reiner,” Armin stammers, blinking rapidly. He backs up, stepping on Eren’s toes. 

“Yeah, it’s noon. I was going to go out for my lunch break before the afternoon group comes in an hour,” Reiner replies. He tilts his head, a lopsided grin on his face. “Maybe your friend wants to join us?” 

Panicked, Eren shakes his head. 

“No!” Armin shouts, holding his hands up. “He’s in a … hurry. I was really just going to walk him to the station -” 

“Then I’ll walk with you guys!” Reiner says eagerly. “I love meeting new people.” Before either Armin or Eren can protest, Reiner starts to jog towards the gate to join them. 

“What do we do?” Armin panic-whispers to Eren, keeping a strained smile on his face. He looks at the zombie, blue eyes wide and terrified. “Eren, I think you should run.” 

“No way! I couldn’t outrun him when I was human and I definitely can’t outrun him now,” Eren says. He doesn’t mention that his knees are shaking way too much for him to even take a step. 

“Oh my god, I can’t do this,” Armin says through gritted teeth. He looks as if he’s about to cry even as he’s waving to Reiner. “I can’t lie to him. I don’t remember the last time I lied to any of you. He’s going to see right through me.” 

“God, Jean never should have left us,” Eren mutters, casting his eyes downward as Reiner stops in front of them. A hand appears in front of him — strong, sturdy,  _ meaty _ — and Eren thinks it’s only a matter of time before either he or Armin blow his cover. 

“Reiner Bruan. I’m the kindergarten teacher here,” Reiner says in his deep rumbling voice. He still holds his hand out, waiting for Eren to take it. “I take it you’re here on a visit. It’s a shame you’re leaving before we can really get to know each other.” 

“Reiner, he’s _ really _ in a hurry so if you don’t mind -” Armin begins, trying to push Reiner back. 

“Wait a second,” Reiner says, easily sidestepping Armin and getting even closer to Eren. There’s something in his voice, something so close to recognition, and it makes Eren’s unbeating heart drop to his stomach. A rough hand clamps onto Eren’s shoulder, forcing the zombie to look up and stare at Reiner’s beaming face. “Eren Jaeger? Jesus, we all thought you were dead!” He’s opening his arms, ready to crush Eren and his delicate zombie body in a bone-crushing hug. Eren’s closing his eyes, preparing himself for the end, but he hears a grunt and the  _ thud _ of someone’s body hitting the ground. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” he hears Armin saying, voice shaking like he’s about to cry. 

Eren cracks open his eye to see Reiner sprawled out on the sidewalk holding his side. “Jesus, Armin, what the fuck was that for?” 

“You were about to hug him,” Armin says, shrinking where he stands. His head is beginning to disappear into his scarf like he’s some kind of turtle. 

“Yeah, because I haven’t seen him in literally a year,” Reiner replies, sitting up and brushing the pebbles sticking to the sleeve of his coat. He frowns up at Armin. “I don’t know why you’re trying to hide him. We held a vigil for him and everything.” 

Armin stares at Eren who only looks back at him. Armin blinks his big blue eyes at Eren and his mouth begins to open. Eren knows what Armin is about to say before he says it. He closes his eyes, bracing himself as Armin blurts out, “Because Eren’s a zombie.” 

Reiner doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just sits on the sidewalk, his head turning slowly to Eren and taking him in. The schoolteacher looks the zombie up and down and opens his mouth. “You guys are serious?” He looks from Eren to Armin and then back to Eren. When neither of them replies, he gets up with a sigh, brushing the rest of his clothes off. “Well, seeing as how  _ both _ of you guys aren’t replying, it looks like you guys are  _ dead _ serious.” He cracks a smile and Eren just wants to groan. This is precisely why he didn’t want to talk to Reiner.

“Okay, since you found out anyway do you mind if we … move somewhere more private?” Armin asks anxiously. 

“Alright, let’s go into my classroom then,” Reiner says, gesturing for them to follow him. He’s taking the news far better than anyone else had. 

“Really?” Eren says, hesitant to follow. “You’re not afraid I’ll eat anyone or anything?” 

“Nah, it’s empty right now,” Reiner says with a shake of his head. “And even if someone wanders in, I can just lock you in the crib.” The crib that Reiner is referring to is a wooden cage with an open top that Reiner’s students often liked to play in because it was at least a foot off the ground but, at least when you’re a five-year-old, feels as if you’re at least ten feet taller. Eren doubts that will be enough to hold him back if he happens to go on a hungry rampage, but Reiner seems pretty confident. 

“So, first things first,” Armin says nervously as the door shuts behind them. His fingers rub at the fabric of his scarf just to have something to do. “You can’t tell anyone.” 

Reiner raises an eyebrow. “Not even Bertholdt?” 

“ _ Especially _ not Bertholdt,” Armin stresses. It’s not because telling Bertholdt will be more dangerous than telling anyone else but because Bertholdt is the person that Reiner is most likely to tell. The two keep no secrets between them. 

The schoolteacher clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You know I tell him everything. He’s going to know something’s up sooner or later. Not keeping things from each other is one of the reasons why our relationship has lasted so long,” Reiner says. He huffs and leans against one of the classroom bookshelves. “One of the reasons why Annie and Mina haven’t even begun yet is because Annie just hides everything. She can’t even tell Mina how she really feels. I bet she’s keeping this whole zombie thing a secret too, right?” Reiner looks expectantly at Eren. 

“Well, yeah but -” 

“You and Historia were like that too,” Reiner continues, not realizing that he’s now diverting from the original topic. He pauses and then gives Eren a frown. “Do you know about Historia yet?” 

“Jean told me,” Eren says, somewhat flustered. He doesn’t know how his zombie confession is somehow turning into a conversation about his (now dead) love life. “But what do you mean Historia and I were ‘like that’?” 

“Oh, you know,” Reiner says with a dismissive shrug. When Eren looks at him with a puzzled expression because he doesn’t know, Reiner sighs exasperatedly and waves his hand around. “I’m just saying that if you had told Historia you were going to disappear a year ago, maybe she’d still be waiting for you.” 

“Why does everyone always say I should have given them a heads up?” Eren says, wanting to tear his hair out in frustration. “I couldn’t! I  _ died _ , Reiner, someone  _ killed _ me!” 

For once, Reiner is speechless and, not knowing what to say, just blinks at Eren with a blank expression. “I’m sorry,” Reiner says, still gawking at the zombie. “Did you just say someone  _ killed _ you? Eren, were you  _ murdered _ ?” He looks to Armin, scandalized. “Why didn’t you say something about this earlier?” 

“I was about to, but  _ someone  _ started running off on a tangent,” Armin grumbles, loosening his scarf. He walks over and pulls out one of the plastic chairs the kids use and sits in it, hunching over with his elbows on his knees. He looks comically huge sitting there with such a glum face. “Look, it’s important that we keep this under wraps because we still don’t know who killed Eren. They could still be running around waiting for someone else to kill. If they find out Eren’s still alive, they might try to come for him again.” 

Reiner lets out a low whistle. “I figured you just got lost in the mountains and died of hypothermia.” 

Eren glares at him, offended. “Why would I get lost in the mountains? I’ve lived here my entire life! I’m not some dumb tourist,” he huffs. 

“Not a tourist, but still dumb,” Reiner teases, always managing to find humor in even the worst situations. His smile fades when he sees neither Eren nor Armin are smiling back at him. Expression now sober, Reiner pushes himself off the bookshelf and continues, “So who have you told aside from me? I assume Annie.” 

Armin nods. “We’ve told Annie.” 

“She’s reliable. Not like me. I’m a bit …” Reiner cocks his head to look at Eren, voice trailing off to let Eren finish what he had been saying earlier to Armin. 

Eren hangs his head, biting his lip in embarrassment. “Sorry.” 

“I’m only teasing,” Reiner laughs. He was never one to hold a grudge. He folds his arms across his chest. “I assume you told Jean, too. So everyone in the old gang?” 

Eren nods. “I told Jean first, actually. He did my makeup.” He kind of wants to rub his cheek sheepishly, but Jean will probably kill him if he comes home with smudged makeup. 

“Wow, you told Jean first? That’s interesting. You guys used to be at each other’s throats all the time,” Reiner hums. He leans over to inspect Eren’s face, turning his head this way and that to look at the zombie’s makeup from different angles. Satisfied after taking a good look, Reiner leans back with a grin on his face. “He made you look better than you did when you were alive.” 

“Fuck you,” Eren replies as Reiner cackles. Reiner’s not wrong though. 

“Okay, so we all know and we’re all agreeing to keep it a secret for Eren’s safety, right?” Armin asks, clasping his hands together. He looks at both Eren and Reiner, but his stern gaze lingers on the schoolteacher as he waits for an answer. “Right, Reiner?” 

Reiner stares back at Armin, his mouth set in a thin line. They stay like that for a minute or two before Reiner breaks his gaze, breathing out a large sigh. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t even tell Bertholdt, who is the love of my life and who I have told all of my life’s secret until now.” 

“Great!” Armin chirps, shrugging the messenger bag off his shoulder and throwing the flap open. He sifts through the contents of his bag and pulls out a handful of books from his bag, all of which he passes to Reiner. “I want you to read these.” 

Reiner’s face is one of pure revulsion. “You’re asking way too much of me, Armin. I’m your friend, but I don’t love you guys that much.” He looks curiously down at the book stack he’s holding, squinting to read the cover. “Why do you want me to read about carpenter ants?” 

“Zombie research. Annie’s doing mammals. I’m covering diseases,” Armin explains easily. “I’ll buy you lunch after I walk Eren home.” 

Reiner visibly perks up at the mention of free lunch. Unlike Eren, Reiner is actually good at studying. He wasn’t as smart as Armin nor as studious as Annie, but he was always one of the top students in class. There were definitely subjects that he excelled in over others; Reiner always preferred classes like literature over history and math, not understanding why he’d have to memorize the names of men who died centuries ago or what application calculus formulas would have in the real world. He never did homework for subjects he didn’t care for but would somehow score top marks when the exams rolled around. He just needed a good motivation to work hard. Since report cards and college entrance exams are no longer an incentive, food works just as well. 

“Only if we go to the barbeque house,” Reiner says, adding, “and you have to let me order as much as I want.” 

Armin purses his lips, not wanting to give in but wanting the man’s valuable research skills. He breathes out, blowing his bangs out of his face. “Fine, fine! But have a conscience, will you? I don’t make much money even working for town hall,” Armin huffs. He closes the clasp of his canvas bag with a  _ click _ and sighs. “Come on, Eren. Let’s get you home. Reiner, I’ll meet you back here in a little bit.” 

“Don’t take too long,” Reiner says in a sing-song voice, walking out after them. He leans against the doorframe, smiling even as Armin scowls at him. “I’m looking forward to our date, Arlert.” 

“He’s going to burn a hole in my wallet,” Armin mutters as they walk away from the elementary school. 

“Sorry.” Eren can’t help feeling guilty. They wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. “Still, I’m a little glad we ended up telling Reiner even if it was unintentional.” 

“Yeah,” Armin agrees. 

The two walk in silence together. 

“You know he’s going to tell Bertholdt though, right?” Armin asks. 

“Oh, absolutely.”

* * *

There really isn’t very much to do at Jean’s apartment, Eren finds. After eating a very sad lunch of hamburger meat he found in the freezer, Eren tries hard to look through the books on vodou that Annie had assigned him. He can’t find any highlighters in Jean’s apartment, so he ends up improvising by using different colored eyeliner pens in one of Jean’s makeup kits to underline sections he thinks are important. Unfortunately, Eren was never good at deciding what information is important and soon has whole pages underlined and eyeliner all over his hands. The words he reads don’t stick in his head even after he’s read a chapter over and over again, somehow making less sense with each read through, and Eren gives up after he runs out of blue eyeliner. 

Jean finally comes home after the sun sets and finds Eren sprawled on his couch staring at the ceiling. He raises an eyebrow, setting a grocery bag on the kitchen countertop, and unbuttons his coat. “Have you just been doing this all day?” 

“You don’t have anything in your apartment,” Eren replies, not getting up. “You don’t even have a Switch.” 

“Sorry I’m not accommodating your every need,” Jean snorts as he hangs his coat on the coat rack. He unravels his scarf from his neck and hangs it on the rack as well. “I bought you some meat by the way -” 

At the word “meat,” Eren immediately sits up and dashes towards the kitchen, grasping for the grocery and pulling it open to reveal a succulent cut of tenderloin beef, blood still fresh. The zombie licks his lips, hands reaching to pull the tenderloin from the bag, only to be sprayed with water. 

“Ugh! Stop, stop!” the zombie yelps, hands raised to shield his face. When he opens his eyes, Jean is standing in front of him with a very disappointed look on his face. 

“Don’t eat food like you’re some kind of animal,” Jean tsks. He puts the squirt bottle down and gestures at his face. “Wipe the makeup off your face too. It’s starting to run. The makeup wipes are in the top left cabinet in the bathroom.” 

“It’s your fault it’s running in the first place,” Eren mumbles, but he shuffles off to the bathroom anyway. He tries to avoid looking at his reflection in the bathroom. He does happen to catch a glance and winces; it looks like his entire face is melting. It takes about fifteen makeup wipes to get it all off. His bare face isn’t much of an improvement from his melting makeup, Eren thinks, and he kind of wishes that Jean taught him how to apply his own makeup so he doesn’t have to go out there bare-faced. Reluctantly, he goes out to meet Jean, making sure to pull his hood over his head so that Jean doesn’t have to look at him too well. 

The table is set for two. One side has a bowl of instant ramen topped with strips of honeyed ham, green onion, and a fried egg. Another just has a plate of tenderloin, blood pooling at the bottom of it. Eren salivates just looking at it and walks over, hypnotized. He sits down at the table, dropping into his seat with a  _ thud _ and reaches out with his hand when he’s suddenly sprayed in the face with water. 

“Ugh!” Eren spits wiping the water off his face with a hand. He scowls at Jean. “Would you stop doing that?” 

“As soon as you pick up your utensils and eat your food like a normal human being,” Jean says, gesturing towards the knife and fork he had thoughtfully set out for Eren. He doesn’t flinch when the zombie growls at him, instead giving him a pointed look. “It was part of our list of agreements.” 

Among the agreements they had agreed upon for Jean to help Eren was that Eren would sit down at the dining table and eat with proper eating utensils. Eren thought it was strange at the time, but he agreed to it. He stares down unhappily at the fork in front of him and picks it up, stabbing the cut of tenderloin. The zombie raises the bleeding piece of meat to his lips, ready to take a bite out of it but he’s sprayed once more with water. 

“Uck! What the fuck was that one for?” Eren splutters. He’s so surprised that he drops his fork and his meat along with it, the tenderloin sending blood splattering out of his plate and onto the table. 

Jean doesn’t look disgusted, only minorly inconvenienced. “Use your knife too,” he tells Eren. 

“Fine,” Eren grumbles, taking the knife in his right hand and picking up his fork again. He cuts through the tenderloin (which is a little bit more difficult to do given that the meat is uncooked) and raises the piece to his lips but stops once he realizes that Jean is still sitting in front of him. 

It’s one thing to have your friend know you’re a zombie and eat raw meat. It’s another thing entirely to eat a bleeding piece of beef right in front of him. It’s not even steak, which would be a lot less embarrassing. It’s just uncooked meat: pink and bloody and raw. Jean doesn’t seem to have any qualms about it. He’s just sitting across from Eren and eating his ramen like this is a normal meal. Eren thinks Jean should feel a little bit weird about this whole thing. 

“Um,” Eren says as Jean slurps up a mouthful of noodles. “Could you maybe look away while I’m eating?” 

Jean looks up from his ramen, raising an eyebrow. With his mouth still full, he replies, “I’m still eating.” Even though Eren sits there not touching his food, Jean continues eating. When he realizes that the zombie hasn’t eaten yet, Jean sighs and motions for Eren to just eat. “Come on. You’re going to make it weird. We can talk about how our days went while we eat if it’ll make you feel less uncomfortable.” 

“Er, okay,” Eren says, sucking on his bottom lip. He looks at Jean again, but his friend has already returned to his noodles. The zombie stares at the little cube of meat on his fork and wonders if it’s really alright. He brings it to his lips, nibbling on it. The taste of meat on his tongue is so rich and savory that he almost  _ moans _ . With less hesitation, Eren puts the tenderloin in his mouth, his whole body relaxing as he chews into the tender meat. It’s not as good as the livestock he’d eat when he lived near the farm, but it beats frozen hamburger meat any day. As soon as he swallows it down, Eren begins cutting away for another piece before he remembers Jean’s still there. He looks at Jean, but the makeup artist is still eating his ramen as if this is normal. 

He’s a few more bites into the tenderloin when Jean says, “I heard that you guys told Reiner.” 

“Armin told you already?” Eren asks, swallowing his beef down hastily. Jean might be fine with eating across a zombie, but Eren doesn’t want his friend to see him with a mouth full of raw meat. This experience is probably traumatizing enough already. 

“Yeah. Reiner made a group chat this afternoon so we could talk about what to do next,” Jean says, to which Eren rolls his eyes. It’s a very unsurprisingly Reiner thing to do. 

“Right, a group chat,” Eren says, pushing a cube of meat across his plate so that it soaks up more blood. “That’s probably convenient.” He has no idea where his phone went. It wasn’t in his pocket when he woke up in the mountains. He assumed that it had either been taken by his murderer or it had fallen out of his pocket and was somewhere in the woods. It might be for the best though. It’d be hard to explain why his phone was still active a year after he had gone MIA. 

“Right, you don’t have a phone,” Jean mumbles. His mouth twists into a frown as he twirls his chopsticks in his bowl. He spoons another ramen into his mouth and hums. Leaning back, he wonders aloud, “Maybe we could get you one? It might take a while, but it’d be more convenient to have you in the group chat, too.” 

Eren perks up. It’s kind of embarrassing to feel so excited about being included in a group chat when he’s been friends with everyone for years, but he’s been out of touch with them for a year so maybe his feelings are justified. “I mean, you don’t have to, but it would be great.” 

“I’ll look into it then,” Jean says as he prepares another spoonful of ramen for himself. He’s always so methodical about eating ramen, making sure to have a little bit of everything in each spoon. “And Armin mentioned that we were starting research.” 

“Ah, yeah,” Eren says with a frown as he thinks about the stack of books he still has yet to get through. “Did he give you anything to read?” If he’s lucky, maybe Jean will agree to trade with him. Eren doesn’t think he’ll ever understand this vodou stuff. 

“Mmm, Armin handed me the newspaper articles about missing tourists and zombie sightings. I might have to get a corkboard or something to work out a timeline on these,” Jean says as he chews thoughtfully. 

Jean follows by filling Eren in on the rest of the group chat conversation — with a roll of his eyes, he explains that most of the messages are just Reiner complaining about how it’s killing him to keep such a big secret from Bertholdt, the love of his life — and future plans that Armin has about dealing with their … situation. (“It’s really just about research and looking into anyone suspicious that might have wanted to kill you, although Annie said that the description was too broad because ‘who didn’t want to kill Eren at some point in their lives?’” Jean said.) It’s not long before dinner is finished and Jean is collecting the dishes to wash them in the sink. 

“I can’t believe I just have to sit in your apartment all day while you guys do all the work,” Eren sighs. He’s never felt so useless in his life. 

“Yeah, it must be killing you to let us help you so much,” Jean snorts as he pulls on his rubber gloves and turns on the faucet. His voice is teasing, but his words remind Eren of something Reiner said earlier that day. 

“Do you think I keep stuff from people too much?” Eren asks. “Reiner said something about that earlier, something about how it led to the demise of my relationship with Historia.” He attempts to say it lightheartedly, rolling his eyes, but he does not like the way Jean freezes up upon hearing the question. 

“Hmm,” Jean hums, pretending to be occupied with the dishes. 

“You’re not answering the question,” Eren points out, straightening his back. He glares at the back of Jean’s head, staring daggers so that Jean knows that his nonanswer is  _ not _ appreciated. “I know I tend to keep things to myself, but I just don’t like sharing every little detail of my life with people. It’s not like it caused problems or anything.” 

Jean sighs and turns off the faucet, letting the dishes soak in the sink. He turns around, leaning back against the counter with a frown on his face. “Eren, you’re just bad at asking for help. Everyone knows this,” Jean finally replies. “It’s not like it’s the worst flaw in the world to have, but it has made being friends with you incredibly stressful at times.” 

“That’s stupid! I’ve never been a burden to anyone!” Eren protests. “Name one time I caused you guys unnecessary stress.” 

Jean doesn’t wait around to answer. “Once, you were sick and locked yourself in your room with a fuckton of Emergen-C and water because you were convinced you could get better by yourself and we eventually had to break down your door and drag you to the hospital because you got pneumonia.” It’s insulting how quickly Jean pulled that example from memory. It’s even more insulting how Jean can prattle off more examples without hesitation. “You got lost on a trip with Historia for two hours because you were too stubborn to ask for directions or call anyone for help. Eren, you would have failed all of our high school classes if Armin hadn’t insisted on group study sessions and convinced you that they helped him more than they helped you.” 

The last one is news to him. “But he said he studied better in a group!” Eren splutters. Then again, it makes more sense now that Jean is pointing it out to him. Armin made way too many study notes for Eren and Eren only in those study sessions. He doesn’t know why he wasn’t more suspicious about them then. Eren sinks down in his chair, pulling the hood over his eyes. “Is it a crime to not want to be a bother to people?” he mumbles. 

Jean doesn’t respond for a moment and Eren thinks the makeup artist has ignored him until the zombie feels the slightest touch on the top of his head. He looks up and sees Jean patting his head gently. It’s comforting. Eren closes his eyes and allows Jean to keep petting him.

“You’re never a bother, Eren. You’re our friend,” Jean says with the warmest smile. He lets his head rest on Eren’s head for a moment before removing it, returning to his dishes. “I have to say, though, it’s pretty funny to have you rely on us so much because you have no other choice.” 

Eren opens his eyes and scowls at Jean. “Funny for you, maybe,” Eren mutters. 

Jean snickers. He tends to the dishes for a bit, shaking excess water out of a bowl before placing it on the drying rack, and says to Eren, “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish these up? It might help you relax.” He pauses and Eren thinks for a moment that Jean might point out that a shower might help because Eren’s a zombie and perpetually gross, but he thankfully doesn’t. “Just grab some clothes out of my drawer or something.” 

Eren wants to grumble and resist, but he does feel grimy and gross. A shower might not help him feel completely cleansed of his filth, but it might help. “Alright,” Eren mumbles, shuffling to Jean’s bedroom and pulling open the drawer of Jean’s pajamas. It’s filled with plain cotton shirts and sweatpants. Not one to be picky, Eren ends up picking a long-sleeved shirt in a dark olive green and some black sweats, feeling more comfortable in more muted colors. Jean doesn’t say anything when Eren emerges with his clothes, so the zombie continues to the bathroom, avoiding his reflection as usual while he strips down to his skin. 

Eren shivers when his foot touches the cold ceramic of the shower and hurriedly turns the faucet to the hot water. The shower sputters on before a rush of water spills out and Eren gasps at how hot it is, but he doesn’t step away nor does he attempt to adjust the temperature. He sighs as the steam surrounds him and the hot water burns across his skin, almost like it’s erasing all the dirt and grime that had covered him while he was buried for the past year. Jeez, Eren realizes. It’s been an entire year since he’s had a hot shower. 

He begins to reach for the soap so that he can scrub away at his skin, but hesitates. It’s the same soap that Jean uses. Is that weird? He hadn’t asked Jean beforehand if he had extra soap and shampoo. Using the same shampoo is a little less weird, but the thought of having the same scent as Jean makes Eren’s stomach flip. It’s a little too late to ask Jean now though, so Eren reaches for the soap. It smells a little bit like pine, but the scent isn’t usually as harsh as it usually is. Jean doesn’t smell that much like pine, Eren thinks, but he does have a kind of forest-y aroma to him. Maybe the fragrance isn’t that strong once he steps out of the shower. Eren imagines Jean using the same bar of soap, running it over his firm biceps as bubbles run down his tanned skin. 

_ No, that’s weird _ , Eren thinks, shaking his head like a dog. Water splatters across the shower curtain.  _ Stop thinking about Jean like that. Don’t think about him showering. Just don’t think about him at all right now _ . But it’s nearly impossible when Eren’s washing his body with the same bar of soap Jean probably runs over his body in the same shower. Why did it have to have a scent anyway? Why couldn’t that stupid makeup artist just use scentless soap? 

Eren hurriedly rubs at the rest of his body, trying to make sure he gets most of the dirt in between his fingers and behind his neck and other hard to reach places. He’s in a hurry, so he probably hasn’t gotten all of it, but he’s confident he’s got most of it. He doesn’t want to take too long lest he have more strange ideas about Jean. 

The shampoo is a little less troublesome. Now that Eren has less hair, it doesn’t take as long to wash it all. He kind of wishes he had gotten a haircut back when he was alive. Getting a trim to maintain a shorter cut was annoying, but long hair always got greasy so quickly and washing it was a pain. Also, he doesn’t think he’d be able to hold his breath while washing his hair without passing out if he had long hair. Holding his breath is a necessary precaution while showering now, Eren thinks, if only to prevent any unnecessary thoughts about Jean. 

It’s a relief when he’s finally finished, stepping out of the shower and drying himself before pulling on Jean’s clothes. Like the jeans and hoodie that Eren had borrowed earlier, the shirt and sweats are a bit shirt, but they feel nice and warm against his skin.  _ And they smell like Jean,  _ Eren can’t help but think. He wipes at the saliva at the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. Somehow, drooling always seems to accompany Jean, like some kind of weird Pavlovian response. Eren needs to find a way to stop doing that. 

When he opens the door, Jean is sitting hunched over on the couch pouring over an open newspaper spread out on the coffee table, reading glasses perched on his nose. 

“Hey, Jean, I’m done with the shower,” Eren calls. 

“Alright.” Jean stretches and then yawns without bothering to cover his mouth. He removes his reading glasses and rubs at his eyes before setting his spectacles down on the table. He gets up and is about to say something when his eyes settle on Eren, mouth agape. Slowly, the brunet raises a hand and points. “Eren, what the  _ fuck _ happened to your neck?” 

“My … neck?” Eren looks down before he realizes that he can’t see his neck. He raises a hand to his throat. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“There are, like, marks or something,” Jean says, stumbling over to get a closer look. He reaches out and pulls down at the collar of Eren’s shirt, exposing more skin. “Jesus, what the fuck? Why didn’t you show me this earlier?” 

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Eren yelps, pulling away from Jean before his friend stretches out the collar. He rubs at his throat with a frown. “It’s not like I spend a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror. Not after …” 

“Right …” Jean’s voice trails off as his eyes drift downward. He clears his throat and grabs Eren by the wrist. “Here, let me just show you.” He walks Eren back into the bathroom and forces him in front of the mirror that’s still foggy from all the steam. Jean wipes at it with his hand so that Eren can see himself. 

Eren doesn’t look, not immediately. He chooses to look at his feet instead, preferring to look at his bony feet and ridged toenails than his face. He probably looks worse without all his makeup on. 

Jean doesn’t force him to look up. He just puts his hands gently on Eren’s shoulders. “Hey, Eren. It’s fine. You don’t look as bad as you think you do,” he tells Eren, rubbing against the zombie’s shoulders soothingly. “

“You’re just being nice,” Eren mutters. 

“I’m not,” Jean says firmly. “It’s really not that bad. You look fine. Kind of like how you did in college during finals week, actually. So not your best, but you don’t look like a monster.” 

Eren sighs frustratedly. “Fine,” he says and he lifts his eyes slowly, He doesn’t look bad, he thinks as his eyes look up from his waist to his chest. The shirt hangs off his body a little too much, as if he’s a skeleton rather than a person, but that makes sense. It’s only when he looks at his neck that Eren realizes what Jean is talking about and he’s too distracted by the sight of it to look up at his face. 

Purple bruises decorate his throat, prominent against his sickly pale skin. They’re all around his neck like a collar, but they also look like something: hands around his neck, the very same that choked him to death the night he died. 

Eren raises his hand to his neck once more, touching at the purple marks lightly. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “What the fuck?” 

“Must have been from when that guy killed you,” Jean murmurs. He reaches out to touch them too, encircling his own hands to mimic the place the killer had wrapped their hands around Eren’s neck. His fingers are cool against Eren’s skin, making the zombie shiver. 

“W-what?” Eren stutters, backing away from Jean and accidentally bumping his hip against the granite counter. He clutches at his throat, trying his best to remember how to breathe. “What are you doing?” 

“Comparing,” Jean replies, somehow completely unaffected. He holds out his hand, but he doesn’t curl his fingers around Eren’s throat. A part of Eren kind of wishes Jean would. “Whoever did it has big hands. Not too much bigger than mine, but their fingers are a lot larger.” 

“What, so we’re just going to ask potential suspects to come over and put their hands around my neck?” Eren mumbles, rubbing at his throat. He hadn’t noticed his neck before. He had always avoided looking at himself and his bundle of clothes had always covered his neck until now. Now that Jean has pointed out the marks on his neck, it feels strange, like a light pressure squeezing around his neck even though there’s nothing there. 

“Nope, but it might be helpful,” Jean says. He reaches around in his back pocket, fishing out his phone. The brunet points it at Eren. “Hold still, I’m taking a picture.” 

“What? Why?” Eren yelps. He covers his neck with his hands, embarrassed for some reason even though it’s just his throat. 

“Come on, all of us have seen you shirtless at least once. I’m just going to send this in the group chat,” Jean tells Eren, swatting the zombie’s hands away from his neck. Reluctantly, Eren lets his hands fall from his throat and Jean takes a few pictures to send to their friends. It only takes a few moments before they send their replies: 

**Zombie Investigation Squad**

**Reiner:** kinky lol 🥵😩💦

**Annie:** never send anything like this to me again

But it’s Armin who sends the most hopeful message: 

**Armin:** Thanks for your dead-ication! Looks like we’re making progress! 😃

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I think of this fic, I think of it as a light, fun read for people. I write a bunch of angst, so this is always a nice break. It's actually a lot of research though! Whoever's monitoring my search history must think I'm crazy. Doing research for fics is probably one of my favorite things to do even though it takes a lot of time and I feel like it pays off in the end ^^ 
> 
> It's hard to say who was my favorite to write because they're all so enjoyable. Reiner might end up being my favorite. He serves as comic relief, but he's very reliable as a friend and I adore people who love their partners. 
> 
> I've been listening to a lot of [ATEEZ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukbr7xyPoRQ) while writing this AU. It really matches the relationship between Eren and his group of friends a lot!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading it~ This year was a bit of a mess, but maybe this fic made it a little bit better, haha. Please leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it! Happy new year, everyone :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! I really had a lot of fun writing it and have a lot of ideas about where this can go. The only problem is that I'd have to write a Whole Story for it and I don't know if I'm up for that, haha. It could be fun though and I'd consider it more if people were interested. (It's not like I'm holding this story hostage though because I'm genuinely interested in writing more about it at some point, I just don't know when that would be!) 
> 
> I actually really enjoy slipping in food descriptions (or even just mentions of food) as much as possible in my fics and being able to do that AND slip in a zombie kind of version of "food" descriptions was kind of a dream come true. 
> 
> My makeup knowledge is exactly zero so doing the research to properly describe what Jean was doing for Eren was kind of fascinating. It's not too in-depth or anything, but I'm pretty proud of it. I also really love the idea of Jean being a makeup artist. Jean will probably be some type of artist in all of my AUs but I think this is the first time I've made him a makeup artist! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Please leave a kudos or comment if you feel like it and I hope everyone has a safe Halloween!


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